


Steps to Step-Father

by Ludella



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: M/M, Reunions, Side pair Kjelle/Severa, Side pair Odin/Leo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-06-07 17:01:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6814444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludella/pseuds/Ludella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerome waited for Inigo for years. He left without a word and hardly a trace, leading them to a spot where the three seemingly disappeared out of thin air.</p><p>It's not the reunion Gerome hoped for; not when he has to choose between worlds and finds a surprise in the form of a young girl bearing resemblance to his lost lover during the trip.</p><p>[Gerome finds Inigo has a kid basically]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Letter

**Author's Note:**

> I took some liberties changing tiny things like. I think Anankos only gave them one crystal ball but I made it one for each bc I couldn't remember and it's easier that way. 
> 
> Just go with it.
> 
> I just wanted to write my boys pining after each other with years worth of feelings built up.

“I’m tired of waiting!”

Gerome lifted his head as he heard the hard clang of a sword hitting the hard ground, Inigo falling to the earth with it. His head fell into his hands, back hunched over, legs twisted beneath him pitifully. Gerome didn’t offer a word.

“Why do we have to wait for Lucina’s orders?! That--that  _ thing _ is out there, and we’re just standing here waiting for it to--to kill someone else’s parents?!”

Inigo’s back shook and he heard a croaky inhale. He was crying.

“We could be fighting, we could be helping, and instead we’re just sitting ducks… waiting for that thing to swoop down and ruin everything else around us. What’s the use in fighting, at this point? Why not just give up and let it kill u--”

“Inigo, that’s enough.”

The dancer didn’t move, as if he had been expecting the other to stop him at any moment. This was happening more often than not, and it was driving both of them crazy. Gerome laid down his training weapon next to the sword Inigo had thrown down, setting them to the side so he could sit next to the other and wrap an arm around him (albeit loosely and somewhat awkwardly).

“We’re not going to die. And we’re definitely not going to give up either. Saying things like that is disgracing everything our parents died for--”

“They didn’t  _ die _ with our egos in mind, they died because they were attacked and killed,” Inigo hissed, voice dripping with venom as he shoved the offending arm off of him. He finally lifted his head to reveal bright red eyes that were puffy with tears. “They aren’t martyrs. They were murdered.”

“...that’s…”

It wasn’t often that Inigo left Gerome at an honest loss of words, recently. Back when things were normal, when they were regular friends, the boy seemed to surprise him every day with some new antic or outrageous thought Gerome could never comprehend. Everything changed as soon as the fell dragon attacked, leaving them all orphaned.

Inigo became a broken record of hopelessness for the first month. He could repeat nothing other than words of pain and despair, unable to do anything other than grieve or take out his misery on damned soldiers attacking the keep. Gerome could say with all respect for his friend that it was pathetic; he was absolutely pitiful. 

He was pathetic only because Gerome knew who Inigo really was--and this wasn’t him.

“You get it now too, don’t you?” Inigo’s voice broke him from his thoughts, causing Gerome to look up as he hadn’t realized Inigo was standing. “We’re like a flock of sheep without any hounds, waiting for a wolf to come down from the mountains and snatch us up.” His face, usually long and exhausted in these moments, scrunched up in a furious scowl. “Not me… not anymore! I’m tired of waiting around for orders, I’m leaving! Right now!”

“No, you’re not,” Gerome spoke more firmly as he stood, grabbing Inigo by the wrist. “Lucina is keeping us alive by waiting for more information, you’re being unreasonable.”

“How could you say that?!”

He sighed. It was impossible to deal with him when he was like this. These phases were impossible to get him out of, no matter who was trying. Not Owain, Brady, Severa, or anyone could help him here. Inigo yanked his arm away and stormed off without another word, not even bothering to retrieve his sword from the ground. Gerome knew he wouldn’t wander too far without it, and was able to take a bit of comfort in at least that knowledge. Even so, he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty for being unable to do anything for him…

Sometimes all he could do was let him walk away. He’d be back eventually, apologize, and they’d be back to normal until another “phase” struck.

All of their other friends had already given up trying to be reasonable with him. But Gerome never would.

* * *

 

For the first time that day, Gerome was able to get off of his feet and sit down. He fell back into his bed before removing his armor, which while uncharacteristic, just showed how exhausted he really was. Stripping down to his smallclothes, Gerome just barely pulled down the sheets and got beneath before he collapsed into the pillows to never get up until he was fully rested.

Inigo, on the other hand, hadn’t stopped chattering since they returned to their room.

“So I brought back the bear claw she wanted, super proud of myself that I took it down since it was  _ huge _ ! And you know what she says?”

“What does she say?”

“It was  _ too big _ ! After all the trouble!” Obviously he wasn’t too upset as he punctuated the statement with a loud laugh, enough to make Gerome smile back at him. “So weird, huh? You think I would’ve gotten paid extra for going to even greater lengths. But someone down the road will take it instead, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“You don’t care do you?”

“I care more than you’re taking so long to get in bed.”

Inigo shook his head with a dramatic sigh, feigning exasperation. “Always so desperate for my tender love and affec--”

“Inigo. Sleep. Anytime now.”

His smile fell into a pout at being cut off. He huffed air through his nose indignantly, though he continued to strip his clothes nonetheless and carefully folding them for the day ahead. “You could at least make it sound like you  _ want _ me,” Inigo mumbled with cheeks dusted pink as he picked up the lantern from the bedside table and puffed it out, casting the entire room in darkness. It took Gerome’s eyes a couple of moments to adjust to the darkness before he could see the outline of Inigo approaching before he finally laid in bed beside him.

He stuck out his arm over the other pillow, allowing Inigo to ease into his hold before cuddling closer. “We’ve been travelling together for nearly a year; if I didn’t want you here with me, you wouldn’t be here.”

Even as Inigo curled into his chest, Gerome’s other arm wrapping around his waist, he continued to complain. “Still, would it kill you to be a little more affectionate?”

“I am--”

“In  _ public _ .”

Gerome shut up quickly.

He could feel Inigo’s hand around his bicep, fingers curling against his skin. “When we get back to our room, you’ll tell me you love me and kiss me, but if I ever try anything in public, you push me away.” Inigo’s voice was much quieter than before, revealing a vulnerability that only Gerome had ever been allowed to witness. A small wave of protectiveness surged over his chest, making the hand he had on his back press against him a little more firmly.

“Some people… aren’t as accepting towards two men. I don’t want you to have to experience that trouble,” Gerome answered honestly. It was something he had dealt with more so than Inigo who spent his earlier days primarily flirting with women alone. He had no doubt that Inigo also had his fair share of troubles, though, sorting out his feelings when he fell in love with a man. They just weren’t as… public as Gerome’s had been, experimenting with other boys in the army growing up.

“Would it be different if I were a woman?”

“What?”

“Would it be different if I--”

Gerome cut him off. “I don’t want you as a woman. You’re fine the way you are, Inigo; we’re both fine.”

A wave of silence washed over them, more comfortable than not. Gerome figured Inigo needed the time to think more on the situation itself rather than Gerome’s response to it. 

It was something the two of them had quietly struggled with before. During the war, they discovered their feelings for each other went beyond that of close friends supporting each other through tragedy. Gerome, already aware of his sexuality, was more prepared to embrace the newfound feelings much sooner than Inigo. Had it been anyone else, he no doubt would have felt ashamed or reluctant to initiate a relationship all on his own. However, knowing Inigo and the internal conflict he was no doubt having over attraction to a man, it was left in Gerome’s hands to gently push him.

It wasn’t until they began to travel together after the war that their relationship began to open up. Once Inigo was comfortable with what was between them, Gerome was able to return to his passive nature and let his lover take the reigns on their relationship, just like they had done with their friendship many years before. It was definitely more natural like this, Inigo leading him into new and strange territory with Gerome following behind mostly to ensure the former’s safety.

He wouldn’t have it any other way. Which was why as soon as any conflict came up, it bothered him to no end that he didn’t have an immediate answer for the man who had helped guide his life for over a decade.

“If I was a woman,” Inigo began after a few silent moments, as if letting the previous conversation settle before beginning anew, “we could have a family.” His voice was quiet and uncertain, and the hand on his arm loosened considerably.

It always came back to this. Gerome inhaled a slow, mildly frustrated breath through his nose. Somehow, Inigo wrapped all their conversations back to this, although so subtly Gerome was able to pass it off. He’d make passing comments of how having his own kids would be nice, or how sweet a family appears. Gerome would simply nod or mutter a quiet agreement before turning the conversation elsewhere.

“Even if we could, we shouldn’t for a long time,” Gerome began, answering him seriously for the first time it had been brought up. “We’ve been traveling for so long, we’d need time to settle down--”

“I’d do it.”

He tried not to get angry at being cut off. It wasn’t difficult, what with how he immediately felt guilty when he glanced at Inigo’s forlorn expression. This was something he had wanted for a long time, and had said so repeatedly. 

Gerome could protect him on the battlefield. If he wanted, he could settle long enough to make money and buy anything Inigo wanted. He could take him anywhere in the world on Minerva’s back, and most of it they already had. The fact that there was something that, no matter how hard he tried, Gerome couldn’t give to him, made him more upset than anything ever had.

Without another word, he laid his hand over the one on his arm and gently rubbed his thumb along Inigo’s knuckles. 

* * *

The world hadn’t been the same for years. The winds were staler, the clouds flatter, and the waves calmer ever since three of the companions he had come to this time with mysteriously disappeared. They had all gone off together one night of a reunion at the capitol, and once they had gone, no one had seen them since. 

Gerome adjusted the coat hanging heavy on his shoulders before tying his boots up to his knees. Their crew of time travellers stayed together ever since then and had more or less settled in a familiar village in Valm, just a mile or so off the Mila Tree. Unfortunately, it had taken quite a while to adjust to the constant snow that always seemed to be falling in winter. 

He knew part of the reason they stuck together was for emotional dependence. Gerome wasn’t the only one who had lost their most important person; Kjelle had been a mess the first few months Severa was gone. She was all anger and frustration, not letting anyone fall behind on searching every square mile of every mountain for tracks, remains, anything. When she wasn’t yelling at their friends for not working, she was training, and many trees fell victim to her anger until citizens feared deforestation. Now, over a year later, she grieved more than anything.

Although they responded differently, Gerome didn’t believe their feelings were different at all; she was able to express outright everything Gerome had been hiding, and he envied that. 

As he stepped outside one of the few cabins they occupied, the same grieving woman met him with a serious stare. Once her eyes fell on him, she scowled.

“Tell me, Gerome… did you see it too?” she narrowed her eyes, though he knew she had no ill intentions towards him. He lifted his face to watch the night sky once more, Kjelle following suit as a silence fell over the land, save the burning of torches.

They waited.

He curled his fingers into fists at his sides.

A minute passed. Then two. Kjelle stopped counting the seconds by then, and though she had asked him a question, made no move to speak to him until she saw the same thing.

Three minutes.

Without warning, a bright light flashed over the sky in a single streak, its tail leaving a slight haze in the empty sky behind it. While it was nighttime, the two of them knew better than to guess it was a shooting star or meteorite.

Gerome began walking before giving her any response. It hardly mattered, seeing as Kjelle fell into stride alongside him at the same time.

“East.”

It had taken them quite a while to find any news about where their three companions had gone. Once they were sure that they were in no areas surrounding the castle or city, they began to expand outwards and practically interrogated villagers for any information. The current village they were in was the farthest they had heard any information, although reports confirmed three who matched Inigo, Owain, and Severa’s description as well as another mystery traveller they couldn’t identify. 

“A few weeks after they disappeared, there was a similar light in the sky,” Kjelle explained despite Gerome already knowing. “If there was ever a sign that they’re out there… this is our best bet.”

Gerome refrained from speaking while moving to Minerva with wide steps, practiced calm to not reveal the ringing in his ears. The wyvern appeared just as somber as he and didn’t even put up a fuss when Kjelle took her place behind him on the beast, much lighter now without all of her armor. They didn’t exchange a word as Minerva took off flying, though he did note her tight grip around his waist for fear--they were all still just children, weren’t they?

Years ago, the sky burst into an aurora west of Ylisse. They could see it even from their camp in some empty plains in the Ylissean countryside while traveling between villages. Their friends had marveled at it, wondering if it perhaps had something to do with the war in Rosanne which had continued after the fall of Grima. 

Among the chatter of their friends around a campfire, Gerome lifted his head to meet Kjelle’s watchful eye. His chest tightened, and he watched the warrior straighten in her seat.

They didn’t need words to know.

The great tree could be seen from miles away, peeking between mountains like a descended cloud turned to stone. Great as it was, it only appeared beautiful from a close view, otherwise it struck more mysterious fear than anything else, no longer with Tiki to spread a soothing atmosphere over the land surrounding. Now, without any dragon protecting the sacred grounds, the waters were murkier and the branches drooped lower. It was alive, sure enough, green enough, but held no where near the amount of boisterous, proud life as it had when Tiki herself was present.

Now, on this night of flying sparks, the tree seemed to return to that same prosperity and enthusiasm, if not moreso. Even from afar, Gerome could see the green of the leaves and bark were brighter--bordering ethereal, even. Kjelle’s arms around him tightened as they grew closer and more of the base of the tree came into view. The waters surrounding the roots that dipped into the ground rushed up and back in waves, different from the usual tranquility that kept even the leaves still. 

Gerome gradually pressed his foot into the scales on Minerva’s side, leaning back to adjust as she began to lower them into the area surrounding the tree. Now that they were much closer, that ethereality he had noticed earlier turned into magic--the water, the leaves, the rock and everything alive and present seemed to buzz with energy. Unusual as it was, he couldn’t say the phenomenon was unfamiliar.

As soon as Minerva’s claws brushed the ground, the two of them jumped down and took off running, no longer worried of others seeing. The dirt beneath his feet seemed to turn with every step he took, almost as if it were rising and falling to meet the heels of his boots. In the winter, the snow never seemed to affect the Mila Tree directly, no more than brushing the leaves that never died. The water never froze either; even the most shallow puddles wading in small crevices between roots. It was as if the tree itself was preventing all things around from dying, always calm but never completely still.

Gerome sprinted onto the large roots with difficulty, nearly slipping on the wet bark before Kjelle pushed his back forward. Though they had fought here many times to defeat Risen lurking in the area, he had only ever done so on the back of his wyvern. Such terrain was unusual to traverse the first time.

When they were finally close enough for him to lift his head and look towards the base of the tree where everything seemed to stem from--

Gerome’s stomach fell.

There was nothing.

He turned to look at Kjelle, only to find she wore the same sentiment on her face; disappointment as well as confusion. 

“The only thing east of here is the ocean,” she began, “and look at this place--something has to be going on, don’t you think?”

He nodded. “Mila Tree doesn’t just glow and feel this way normally. However, there’s nothing here.”

“You’re not saying we should turn  _ back _ are you? After we’ve been waiting for something to happen for months--”

“I didn’t _ say _ that,” Gerome snapped, the frustration of years spent alone finally coming to the surface. “I mean to say that we may be waiting long--”

Out of the corner of his eye, another light crossed over the sky in a similar fashion to those previous.

Before Gerome could react, he was on the ground.

Whatever everything around had been building up to until now all seemed to give at once until all he could see was pure white even when he closed his eyes. He vaguely registered Kjelle’s presence next to him, the girl shielding her face with both arms from whatever it was that caused the ground to shake so tremendously. 

All at once, chaos broke loose. The one still water crashed against the side of the trees, spilling up and flooding over the roots to the point he feared they would no longer be able to stand on them. Gerome could feel waves of water spray up from the surrounding pools and douse his clothes until they were sticking to his form, cold as it was.

In the back of his mind, he told himself rather than he felt that this was somehow nostalgic. Something similar had happened before, though with the adventurous life he’d lived through, there were many large events to sort. But there was no mistaking this feeling, though slightly different. As the bright lights began to clear, Gerome lifted his head and scurried up off of the ground with Kjelle following suit.

If he were able to move any part of his body, he would have gasped. His mask had fallen off long ago without his noticing, and he was subconsciously grateful for it, with nothing to obstruct his view of the sight before him.

Hanging in the air over the base of the tree was a large magic circle, surrounded with emblems and runes he vaguely recognized from Laurent’s books of languages long lost. They spun around what appeared to be a bright blue pool placed vertically in the sky. To his right, Gerome looked to see Kjelle finally on her two feet with great difficulty but marching forward nevertheless.

“Gerome!” 

He heard her shouting, but didn’t wait to see her lips move as his eyes reverted to the portal looming above them. There was only one place he had ever seen such a thing.

His heart beat so quickly he couldn’t count. Something moved within the vortex, and before he could imagine what it may be, it grew arms and legs and a shape.

For the first time in so long, he dared to think of his name.

_ Inigo _ .

The mantra he had once prayed every night returned in a flood as the dam was broken.

_ Inigo, Inigo, Inigo. _

Every good memory, every smile, every touch he had locked in the back of his mind to keep it from hurting so he wouldn’t have to remember they may never return. Every labored breath that was wrenched from his lungs finally had a purpose.

The silhouette moving within the vertical pool slowly began to tear itself out of the dry water and into their realm.

Inigo, Inigo, _ Inigo. _

The sound of a scream to his right broke his thoughts, and he turned just in time to see Kjelle run forward. The figure, now fully distinguishable, finally broke the surface of everything that made up the space between worlds, falling forward to the ground. Only then did the realization made Gerome’s heart plummet.

There was only one.

And she wore long, red pigtails.

Kjelle shrieked before Gerome could come up with a comprehensive thought, running forward to meet the woman who had fallen out of the portal. From the corner of his eye, he could see them embrace, holding onto each other tightly while speaking quietly. If he concentrated a little more, he would have been able to hear the telltale quiver in Kjelle’s voice that proved she was already crying. 

But Gerome paid them little mind at all, keeping his eyes focused on the swirling portal before him. Perhaps there was a delay? He was running late? It wouldn’t be the first; he couldn’t count the times Gerome had nearly left a village without Inigo since the boy was taking too long giving farewells to pretty women and gathering all his new things that he would eventually give away anyways in the next town. Gerome had grown used to it, eventually, and though he acted as if he was leaving without him, it was only because he knew Inigo would catch up.

Inigo had a history of making him worry unnecessarily, although he would never show it. The past few years, it was one of the things Gerome regretted most; being unable to display his emotions to those who were most important to him. And yet, somehow, Inigo had stayed by his side anyways. He definitely couldn’t read his mind, and it wasn’t like he understood Gerome’s mood automatically like some would assume he’d have to. Instead, he simply… adapted. He was himself, no matter what. He had always been much more honest (to Gerome, at least), and he had always somewhat respected that. 

But he would never let him know. If only he had known holding back his feelings so much would turn into such a void of regret… Gerome would have told Inigo everything. Held his hand in public like he asked. Not be afraid to kiss him after a battle because he was so relieved. Compliment him instead of criticizing him. It sounded so out of character, so unlike himself--but now that he had been gone so long, Gerome couldn’t help but fear that he hadn’t returned because he never showed his feelings as much. It’d be easy for Inigo to misunderstand his feelings, think he didn’t care when he did…

This was his call to action. Now was no better time than to finally, finally be more honest. He had had years to contemplate their relationship and everything he had done wrong, admitted to mistakes he never would have thought of with the idea that it would make Inigo return to him. Gerome was older now, he had experienced more. He was sure that now, definitely, he could fix everything he had done wrong and begin a more positive future. With Inigo finally by his side once again.

“Gerome.”

He finally peeled his eyes off the spinning vortex to find Severa by his side with Kjelle next to her, both wearing expressions so morose he nearly didn’t recognize her. He was about to question her when another movement in the sky reverted his attention to the portal, only to find it was growing dimmer.

Gerome had been alone for years, with no one by his side besides his friends in equal grief.

The portal slowed to a stop, and began to ease back in on itself until it entirely disappeared. Within a few moments, the Mila Tree was back to its original self; no more lights in the sky, no more buzzing energy in the branches, no more excitement in the roots.

The snow from earlier that night finally began to reach them again.

Inigo had been gone for years, and yet only now did Gerome feel entirely alone.

Severa reached out and grabbed his sleeve, though his attention was far away.

“Inigo and Owain aren’t coming back.”

* * *

It was difficult to convince Minerva to take more than two people on her back, though once she noticed the mood Gerome was in, she put up no resistance. The entire flight back was made in silence, although Gerome could tell the two women wanted nothing more than to be together at that moment. Even through his own shocked grief, he could see Severa reaching for Kjelle’s hand to hold the entire way.

He would be happy for them if the situation was any better.

“Are the others… who all is where we’re going?” Severa asked quietly, as if she wasn’t sure if she could speak or not.

Kjelle answered for the two of them. “We had all been traveling together for a long time, but eventually all went separate ways. Gerome and I are the only ones at our current settlement, though the rest are technically with us. They’ve been doing their own things the past year.”

“I see. That’ll make this easier.”

He couldn’t understand what part of this was easy. 

They had sat Severa between the two of them, mostly because she wore nothing besides her regular light armor and was thus unprepared for the snow storm they had to fly through. Although her arms were around his waist for security, he could tell Kjelle was just a close, almost crushing the girl with the weight she had wrapped herself around her.

“This is it,” Kjelle notified once their homes were in sight, appearing rather modest from a top-down perspective. They only had a few small cabins set up, most of which were now empty once everyone had gone their own ways a while ago. He had no doubt they would return eventually, and if they didn’t, the now three of them would find where they were eventually. 

Once they had landed, Gerome led them to the only building inhabited anymore which both he and Kjelle stayed together in. It wasn’t the largest, containing only a few small rooms for a kitchen, bathroom, and the main room which doubled as a living space and bedroom for the two of them. Never separating, Kjelle and Severa took their seats at the table in the center of the room, hands still locked tightly together. Gerome sat across from Severa and met her with a hard stare.

Her face became just as cold, and she straightened her back to speak. 

“Don’t ask questions; I’ll tell you everything.”

And she stayed true to her word. Without further ado, Severa began to recount the man who sat yelling outside the palace walls, and how she, Inigo, and Owain had no choice but to leave with him. They hadn’t expected to take long, thus they hadn’t told anyone else they were leaving.

“By the time we were in Valm, it was too late. We realized this was much greater than we had imagined,” she explained. “Before we had a chance to leave any sort of message or proof that we were safe or where we were going, the man--Anankos--ushered us away. He gave us the choice of turning back, since he assured us death was possible. But it’s not like we could refuse,” she paused, surveying the other’s faces and waiting for a nod from Kjelle before continuing. “We knew how he felt to see his world crumble.

“And that led to a deal. He had promised us anything in return for our efforts, so we made the decision to ask him to bring life back to our original world.”

“Our original time?” Kjelle intervened, shocked.

Severa nodded with a small smile falling onto her face. “He placed graves for all those who were killed in the war and returned nature to dead lands so that those who remained could live again. And once he did, he said he could hear voices… our parents’. They thanked us. They said they loved us. Even though we were able to meet our parents in this time again, hearing it from the souls of our real parents…”

Gerome and Kjelle exchanged a look of understanding. He was finally beginning to warm back up, hearing the truth from Severa herself. The idea that their world was able to live again… he couldn’t help but feel some relief he didn’t know he needed. “Thank you,” he said, though for what he wasn’t exactly sure.

Severa seemed surprised to hear a kind word from him, and the shock showed on her face before her smile returned.

She continued. “He blessed us with new strength to help us on our mission. The rest… is for another time. I’d rather not waste time with the logistics of our mission, but it was to save the world from a corrupt dragon. We did so by joining the royalty of one of two nations at war, Nohr.”

A small gap of silence filled the space in Severa’s pause for thought.

“They were… amazing. We became official retainers to three of the royal siblings, and all three of us became attached, to some degree. The princess I served, Lady Camilla, was a woman like no other… she was strong, beautiful, loyal, and intelligent. It was the first time I respected a woman more than my own mother.”

“More than  _ Cordelia _ ?” Kjelle asked, having since let go of Severa’s hand to allow her to speak without reservation. 

“Yes… it may sound strange to say, but she was remarkable.” As if something had triggered, Severa drifted into her own world. The expression on her face was one neither Gerome nor Kjelle could recognize, reflecting some otherworldly wisdom and nostalgia that they could not identify. It was as if she was no longer Severa the warrior they knew. She was someone… different. Who had led a very different life from them. “Lady Camilla taught me much of the world and myself, both. She gave me a home...a place to feel safe, and loved. I’ll never… never forget the time I spent with her.”

Another pause.

The woman before them jerked herself out of her memories, returning to the Severa they knew. “Not romantically, of course! Our relationship was nothing like that. What I hold for her is nothing more than a deep respect and gratitude!”

Kjelle began to smile at the reassurance, nodding as if to tell her everything was alright.

“What about Inigo?” Gerome finally asked, no longer able to remain quiet. His eyes narrowed. “Why did he not return with you?”

“That is… also because of his lord,” Severa answered in a much quieter voice. She was no doubt hesitant to inform him, and Gerome knew he would be upset regardless of her answer. What mattered was that he  _ wasn’t here _ , yet Severa was. “Owain, Inigo, and I all were sincerely devoted to our lords… and they are the reasons Inigo and Owain remain in that world right now.”

He could feel his face going pale.

Severa quickly stuck her arms out in front of her, hands splayed to stop him from reacting. “Wait! Listen to me before you do anything, stupid! It’s true that Owain fell in love with his lord--”

“ _ Love?! _ ” Gerome and Kjelle burst out together, just as a hot blood began to return to Gerome’s face in impending rage. Kjelle cut him off by speaking. “You mean to say Owain, our  _ Owain _ fell in love?!”

“Well, like I said, we all went through a lot of changes… but that’s for later!” Severa met Gerome’s eye again and held a serious expression to keep him from assuming anything. “Inigo had no such intentions when he stayed back. In the weeks we spent deciding our fates, he made it very apparent he was still in love with you.”

At a loss for words, Gerome blinked. He waited. He leaned back in his chair. “What?”

“We never heard the  _ end _ of it.” Finally, knowing he was listening without the intention of getting mad, Severa smiled again. “That guy’s disgusting enough on his own, do you know how hard it is to listen to him talk about someone he’s actually in love with? We were all homesick our first few months there, but he was something else entirely. Every other night was staying up because he was worried about Gerome, complaining he was afraid Gerome would move on, wondering what Gerome, Gerome, Gerome was doing.”

Within the last few hours, he had convinced himself Inigo was either dead or just dead to him. The idea that, with all he was hearing now, he still loved him… was something he hadn’t expected. And then it crashed down on him; of course Gerome still loved him too. That was the point of this, wasn’t it? Slowly, he propped his elbows up on the table and leaned his forehead against joined hands. He didn’t want to think anymore.

Severa continued when it became apparent he wasn’t going to say anything. “It’d probably be best if you heard it from Inigo himself.”

Before he could tell her that was impossible now, he lifted his head, only to watch as Severa pulled a small parcel from her bag and slide it across the table with sympathetic eyes.

“He told me to give this to you. It may be hard to read but… for his sake, don’t think he did this because he doesn’t care about you."

Without paying either of the women at the table any mind, he slowly began to open the pouch.

Only three small items were included; a folded up letter, two small crystal balls, and what appeared to be a long, translucent ribbon that was folded gently to fit inside.

He began to read the letter before questioning the other items.

 

_ Dear Gerome, _

_ I’m sorry that this is how I must communicate with you. Since Severa will give you this and I’m not there, you’re probably super pissed right now. I understand, I probably would be too if I was in the same situation. By now I hope she’s explained what happened, since I asked her to so I wouldn’t have to write that much. You know I’m not good with words. _

Gerome could already feel a smile forming on his face without his permission. He truly despised this man for making him smile when he was supposed to be infuriated.

_ I didn’t have much of a choice when leaving our world to come here. There was no way we could turn back after hearing what Anankos had to say, how he needed our help to save his world. But it also meant I might never see you again. He said there was a possibility we might even die, as we would be facing enemies we never had before. That was probably the scariest part; not that I would die (well that sucks too) but if I did, you might never know what happened to me. If I’d ever come back. If I left because I wanted to. _

_ I have no idea what you’ve been feeling these past few years (it’s been a few years here, I don’t know if time passes the same way? I think it does). I’m so sorry, Gerome. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. There’s a chance you’re reading this after having already moved on, and I get that. It’s one of the first things I thought about when I considered what you might be doing. I hope you haven’t, because I didn’t. _

_ I have a duty in this world that I can’t ignore. The people here have taken me in and made me one of their own, and it’s something I’ve never felt before. You’ve felt it too, right? That sense of not really belonging in the current time we were in where you’re at right now. We aren’t in our world, but we are. But here, I had no attachments to anyone besides Severa and Owain. We were able to start over, and build our lives from the beginning here. _

_ The people here still need me, and I guess I need them too. I miss everyone back home like you have no idea, but this is the first time I’ve felt like I actually belong and am needed somewhere, you know? I can’t describe it. When the war here finally ended, we were given the option to go back. The three of us sat down together for a long time and talked about it, and we weren’t able to decide for MONTHS. Owain was the first to settle; it’s kinda a given, seeing as he fell in love with a guy here. He’s really happy here, by the way. He’s doing great. And also says hi. _

_ Severa and I had a similar situation. Both of our loved ones were back in our original world, but we had such strong bonds here that it was hard to decide. She finally broke down and decided to return home, to be with Kjelle and everyone else. Which made my decision a little bit easier. _

_ No matter what, I can’t bring myself to leave this place. There’s certain bonds and people keeping me here, and it’s become a home to me. Gerome, I wish I could explain it better. You probably think this is stupid. But it’s just like I’m freer here. I’m sorry. You deserve a better explanation. You deserve a better lover. _

_ When we first arrived, Anankos gave us three crystal balls. He said they have the power to transport us between time and worlds, though they are only good for one trip. It’s the kinda stuff that sounds like a miracle to normal people but is just another Tuesday for us, huh? Anyways, between us, we have three. Severa’s using one to get back to Ylisse. I asked Owain for his, and I’m giving both of them to you. _

_ I want you to come here. I know it’s selfish of me, but I can’t help it. You’re the only thing in that world that’s holding me back, and I guess this is my way of trying to find a happy middle. If you came here, everything would be perfect! _

_ But I know I can’t just ask you to pick up everything and come live in an entirely different world to be with me. I’m just hoping that maybe something I said about this world will resonate with you. I don’t know how you feel about the world our parents live in, but for me, I felt like an alien, almost. Like I didn’t belong there.  _

_ I gave you both of the crystal balls remaining, that way you can come and then return home if you change your mind.  _

_ I’m sorry for everything I probably put you through. But I still love you, Gerome.  _

_ Even if you choose not to come, please know I never gave up on you. And I never will. _

 

_ With love that spans across time and dimensions, ( _ ~~_ Odin _ ~~ _ Owain grabbed my quill!!!) _

_ Inigo, a.k.a., Laslow _

 

_ P.S. I also included a piece of ribbon from one of my new costumes. I’m a full fledged dancer now. If you don’t come, at least keep it and remember me. I’ll never forget you. _

 

By the time he had finished, Gerome’s hands were shaking. 

He hated it. He hated every bit of it. Inigo had left him, deserted him without a word for years, and one letter is able to make him feel every ounce of love he’d ever felt for a person rush back. It simply wasn’t fair that one boy--one  _ man _ had more control over his emotions than he himself did.

Gerome looked back at the cloth in his hand, the physical proof that Inigo was out there somewhere. Still moving, still living, and miraculously, still loving. He had never imagined what kind of life Inigo would be living when he was gone, seeing as he hadn’t even been completely sure the dancer was still alive. Yet here he was, holding the proof; he was still living.

But Gerome’s time had stopped almost entirely.

“Gerome,” Severa’s voice called, much gentler than he had ever heard the brash girl speak. He didn’t bother to look at her face, almost as if he’d feel worse. She had been with him. Her time continued as well, and here she was, grown and mature and wiser. “I didn’t read what he wrote, but I know his feelings. Even though he stayed back, he really does want--”

“Stop. Please.”

She did.

The two women remained silent, though they watched carefully as Gerome stood from his seat. With the hand holding the letter, he grabbed the pouch holding the two crystals. He couldn’t be in here, not for a moment longer. “Just… leave me alone for a while.”

Kjelle stood from her chair as if to follow him. “Gerome, you know that I’m here for you. I know what you’ve been through--”

“I know. Thank you.”

When he closed the door behind him, the long, tortuous years of waiting were put to an end as well.

He couldn’t figure out if what he had now was any better.

Inigo was alive. That was the first plus. He was alive, and also living. He had probably done more living in a week than Gerome had the entire time he spent waiting, seeing as both he and Kjelle were reduced to simple mercenary work and uneventful days. 

He was happy where he was. Gerome could tell Inigo had missed him too, not just from his letter but Severa’s words as well. Even so, it didn’t erase the fact that Inigo had chosen to remain in a world he had no knowledge of. He sounded… enchanted with it. Could a world really be so different? What was it they had that Gerome’s world didn’t?

But he was making an effort to compromise. Inigo didn’t leave Gerome and ending it altogether; he offered him an opportunity for them to be together again. A radical opportunity, of course, but what else could he expect from the lunatic? It was so like him to make Gerome choose between his lover and his home world, always one for dramatics.

And he still loved Gerome. He finally noticed his heart had sped up, a frighteningly  _ young _ sensation he hadn’t felt outside of battle in years. Even if Gerome decided to stay where he was, Inigo had given him something to remember him by. Something to remind him of a time where they were together and in love. Those days hadn’t been perfect--far from it, full of fights and misunderstandings galore--but god, would he give anything to return to them.

Hesitantly, he brought the cloth up to his face.

Gerome took a moment to simply breathe, having forgotten how, and was nearly overwhelmed by the variety of scents that were so much stronger than the clothes and blankets Inigo had left behind for him to hold on to. This was familiar--different, but no doubt the same man he had held and traveled with for so long.

Inigo was alive.

He looked down at the two glittering gems in the bottom of the pouch. He had been given the chance to get his loved one back--at the cost of everything he had ever known.

It was typical of Inigo to make him live through this again.


	2. Palace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you believe this is the only thing i wanted to keep writing

Though it was hardly used anymore, Gerome reopened one of the other cabins once occupied by Brady and Yarne specifically to give Kjelle and Severa their space. With more time to separate his emotions, he really was very happy for his friends, and seeing them together filled him with some kind of relief he wasn't used to. After spending so long together and identifying their emotions, Kjelle’s relationship felt like his own from afar.

Lance in hand, he surveyed the blanket of snow covering the field around where they had settled. He gripped the staff tighter upon seeing two tracks of footprints leading out of the girls’ cabin. He couldn’t help the dirty feelings of bitterness that threatened boil over; while he was happy for them all the same. He really was. And yet at the same time, the nagging question of "why didn't Inigo choose to come back too?" gnawed at his reason. Gerome had read over Inigo's letter to him a million times hoping he had missed a sentence or two, or if in the years he had been searching, some words had changed their definition. Perhaps "decided to stay" now meant something like "be back in a day!" or something in that other world.

Deep down, he knew he had understood it on the first read.

In the common ground outside, Severa appeared from behind the line of trees and approached him, carrying a bundle of logs under her arm. It was more than he remembered her being able to balance in the past, he thought offhand. "For the fireplace--Kjelle is out getting more right now."

"I see," he nodded, relieving her of the weight and taking the wood in his arms. It had yet to let up on the snow, and if anything, was only becoming worse. He hesitated. "The fire in my room is already burning. You can wait there instead of yours."

Severa nodded and for a second, Gerome wondered if she had anticipated his words. She was surprising him a lot recently. "Thanks, the cold has nearly numbed my feet from being out all day!" To make her point, she tapped the toe of her boot into the ground before letting herself into the lodge. "Kjelle had more clothes prepared so she said she would last longer."

He didn't bother responding to what was obviously an artificial cheerfulness but closed the door behind them to keep any more snow from blowing in and threatening the fire. By the time he had taken his boots off, Severa was across the room and adding a small log to the fire to keep it from starving. She hadn't even waited to remove her own clothes, the stiffness of which suggesting she had tripped into a river and they froze in the cold air. That was a much more likely explanation as to why she had returned early.

Once the fire was fed, Severa began to extract damp pieces of fabric and armor from her skin, waiting for Gerome to pass her a simple cloak to cover herself as she removed even her undergarments and left them near the fire to dry. "Don't look at them."

"I did your laundry for years anyways."

Severa hummed a reply, focusing on sticking her feet as close to the fire as possible without being licked by the flames. Her toes were so blue he wasn't even sure she'd feel it if they did anyways. 

Gerome had only left his room to check up on them, thus he was in no hurry to warm up and save himself from hypothermia. Still, he sat down in the simple chair he had pulled over to sit near the fire anyways, only a foot away from Severa now. For a while they remained silent, listening to the crackling of the new fodder fed in and vaguely watching the motion return to Severa’s feet. She wiggled her toes every minute or so to test their movement, and once she was able to play with them freely, she opened her mouth.

"You've had a month to think about his letter," she began quietly, knowing she was treading on thin ice. "We've given you this long to think about it without bringing it up. But it's been so long... what are you thinking, Gerome?"

Even though they were only among friends, Gerome never took off his mask, even when he slept. He knew this conversation had been coming, yet he still had no answer prepared. He kept his eyes trained on the fire, expression unsolvable behind his mask. 

"I'll take as long as I need; it's not as if I could tell him my decision immediately anyways."

"Gerome, time is still passing. You can't keep him waiting--"

Unexpectedly, he raised his voice. "He kept me waiting for years thinking he was dead, he can wait a month or two for me to make a decision."

Severa, known for her shrill voice, was not one to be matched in volume. "There's barely a decision to make! If you stay here, he'll never know anything! You either go or you don't, you're not spending your time here doing anything useful anyways!"

"It's _that_ simple?" He finally turned his head to glare at her to find Severa was already looking up at him. "So he's allowed to take his time but I have to decide between my lover and my world within a day?"

Gerome didn't give Severa a chance to respond, standing upright from his seat and immediately moving back to the door. "Gerome--"

"There's a reason I don't want to talk about this with either of you.”

Kjelle returned at an unfortunate moment, and as soon as the door was opened, Gerome saw himself out while pushing past her. He was thankful she made no attempt to stop him and closed the door behind her, letting him go off to wherever he felt was right at the moment.

Except nowhere was. Gerome found himself wandering the forests yet again, the land different on foot than it was above with Minerva. He tried to steer from the girls’ tracks as much as possible to avoid thinking about them altogether. He knew Severa’s words had an edge of truth to them. He knew and hated it.

Reaching in his pocket, Gerome felt for the telltale crinkle of paper against his fingers and retrieved the letter once again. He only kept the second page with him to retrace certain words with his fingertips when he was so low his sentimentality caught up to him.

_ I want you to come here. _

_ I still love you. _

How could Inigo write those words? Not only were they a level of cliche that he tried to avoid with Gerome, but after all this time? According to Severa, the passage of time seemed to be about the same in both worlds, so they had experienced the same years parted from each other.

Right now, Inigo was in another world. Right now, he was waiting. He was in some new home with new people that were apparently much kinder than anyone he knew here; he was happy, but he was waiting.

_ I never gave up on you. And I never will. _

It took every ounce of strength in his body to resist crumpling the paper in his hand, knowing he’d regret it later. Isn’t this what Gerome had wanted? After years of waiting, praying Inigo was just alive somewhere, he was finally being given a chance to reunite. But the cost of it… he knew what it was like to leave an entire world behind for a new one--or at least a timeline.

This was more drastic.

He wouldn’t know the history, the races, traditions, what was right, what was wrong--it would be entirely alien altogether. Inigo had made the choice to go, to leave everything behind, but he had a mission to accomplish. If Gerome went, his mission was to simply… find his lover. It was almost pathetic, putting it into words. He was considering giving up his home and everyone he loved for one man--a man he hadn’t seen in years.

It’d been a long time since Gerome had wished for advice from his own mother. During the war against Grima, she had been one of the first to pick up on his… feelings towards Inigo. He had caught her staring at him lecherously after speaking with Inigo, looking like the cat who got the cream. Gerome avoided her from there on out, dodging out of conversations and taking different routes in battle to avoid a word with her. He knew what she was going to say every time he saw her approach.

“You like him,” she had finally said one day, catching her son off guard in his own tent. Gerome jumped, spinning around quickly with a red streak across her face that laid everything bare before he could defend himself.

“That’s hardly any of your concern,” he scoffed, trying to map out an escape route.

As if sensing his need for flight, Cherche widened her stance and blocked the door.

She had ended up lecturing him the entire night, and it only ended once his father entered the tent as well. Thankfully, his mother quickly ended any and all conversation on the matter, keeping some rare amount of discretion for her son’s sake.

Though he had hated her for it at the time, Gerome felt he wanted nothing more than for her to trap him like a mouse once again and force him to confront feelings he refused to on his own. Severa had tried, he knew, but she lacked the presence and authority of one who raised wyverns for a living.

He felt the edges of the letter in his hand, worn now from the travel and his constant insecurity.

Deep down, Gerome was incredibly aware of what prevented him from choosing one path from another; bitterness. To make Inigo wait like he had, unaware if Gerome was alive or not, loved him or not, waiting or not. To hope he was feeling even an ounce of the pain he had suffered for years waiting for a single sign Inigo existed somewhere. 

He hated that part of himself more than anything. How could he go to Inigo like this, still wishing for him to feel pain?

This wasn’t a decision he could make thinking only of his own selfishness. It wasn’t just his future; it was theirs. ‘Their future,’ a concept that had only begun existing a few months ago after being lost for so long.

In reality, he had made his decision since the moment he read the letter.

There was never another option.

* * *

 

According to Severa, it was most likely that the portal would bring him to the same spot they had been dropped off when they first arrived, a kingdom now known as “Valla.” She had given him a quick rundown of the world’s history, deciding that some parts would be easier for Inigo to tell himself and for Gerome to simply see. Still, it was enough to get by, and she generously provided him with a hand drawn map that covered the general regions. 

Gerome was relieved to find the sky was blue, dirt was brown, and trees were green upon first arriving. Some part of him had expected a new world to contain entirely different laws and physics, and only now did he realize how ridiculous such an assumption was. On Minerva’s back, he rose a good distance over the forest tops, subconsciously searching for something unusual to convince him he truly was in an entirely new land. He wouldn’t be surprised if he had just been transported to some new continent of his homeworld with how similar the two seemed here.

There were dangers to how he was travelling. Back home, he had always ridden with the Ylissean army, and thus his presence in the sky was never questioned. Here, he had no identity or history--and definitely no express purpose for riding wyvern-back unauthorized. Gerome knew at any moment he could be stopped by rangers patrolling borders as he had little idea where anything began or ended or where was authorized and what was kept secluded.

From the map Severa had given him, he was able to recognize slight enough landmarks that allowed him to land. Gerome could see large buildings in the distance, more advanced than he had seen in Ylisse. If Severa’s description matched, it should mean he was getting closer to the capital of Nohr. The largest problem he could imagine encountering so far was simply where he would keep Minerva when it became necessary to travel through towns on foot--now, other anxieties made themselves home in his stomach.

Inigo was the retainer of the country’s king. To earn an audience with him would not be an easy task, especially when he had no value to his name or even a story he could use. Hell, he didn’t even know enough of this world to bullshit some reason the king of Nohr should speak to him. Gerome would have to find another way of contacting Inigo, and it was likely through the help of another form of royalty.

Gerome didn’t bother tying Minerva to a tree to keep her still, knowing he may need her at a moment’s notice. He left her about a mile outside the capital so that he could walk the rest of the way with less suspicion and informed her of her plan so they may rendezvous later. He had never attempted to make such complex plans with his own wyvern, and he only prayed she had both the trust and intelligence to follow through as needed.

With a cloak draped over his head and shadow cascading over his already covered face, Gerome took a deep breath and set foot through the gates of the capital. He held the pack at his side tighter.

Few questioned him as he made his way through the more rural outskirts of the city, though as this was the center of the country, even the farmers had some air of pretention to them. He was simply grateful they went about their own business and only gave him strange looks for his attire more than anything as he passed through town. At this point it was easy to find the palace, what with it standing high in the center of the city, and he wouldn’t stop to ask anyone for directions unless direly necessary. So far the only interaction he had made was with a few merchants, selling the golden currency from Ylisse in exchange for Nohrian to feed himself.

Severa had been one of the most unexpected allies he could make, not only because she had disappeared for years with his lover, but they had never been particularly close even when they were friends to begin with. They dealt with each other mostly out of necessity and common friends, and the only sentimental moments spent between them were those of similar grief in mourning their parents and lifestyles. Gerome wouldn’t say he ever disliked her--and being with Kjelle for so long, he definitely felt closer to Severa simply from the stories he heard of her from Kjelle.

She spent an entire day preparing him for this world, saying she had only been given an hour of explanation before they were all thrust into the war and Gerome deserved more. She prepared him a map that she had memorized due to years helping her liege prepare for battle, taught him how to use the glass orbs so he could even come here, and given him one final godsend gift he could never repay her for.

The guards at the palace gates tensed up when they realized Gerome was approaching them specifically. He reached back, and they gripped their weapons tighter, believing he was to pull out the lance on his back when he merely removed his hood.

“I’d like an audience with first princess Camilla,” he spoke clearly, moving slowly so they would not be suspicious when he reached for his pack to retrieve an item. He removed his fist, opening it towards them with a black hair ribbon tied around a thin but long lock of red hair. “I have word from her retainer, Selena, that she would be interested in hearing.”

* * *

The guards had been hesitant, but complied to at least show Camilla the lock of hair he had. As soon as she heard what was happening, she admonished them, rushing Gerome in as if he were an honored guest to speak in her private chambers. The same two guards who at once doubted him were now escorting him through the lavishly furnished halls and apologized for their behavior awkwardly, assuming he was of some position of power that may affect them to have bad standing.

"I must say," the princess Camilla began without introduction, "Selena told me she would be leaving, but I never expected to hear word again from her."

Gerome remained quiet, unsure of when it was appropriate for him to speak. 

The princess did not greet him when he entered, and already he felt as if he was intruding from the wistful, far off look on her face as she studied the lock of hair delivered to her. He sat down silently at a table meant for small meals and tea as he waited to be spoken to again. In a way, Gerome could understand some of what Severa had described of her lady; Camilla had a presence both terrifying and awe inspiring. Her mere stance commanded respect, even when she was as emotional as she appeared now.

"Tell me, traveller," she continued after a minute, finally turning to face him, "what word have you of my dear retainer?"

He knew he was in the presence of somebody quite great. “Selena sends her well wishes and gratitude for all you have given her,” he said, reciting the words just as Severa had said, “and she would have you informed she is happy now with her lover at home.”

“I see.”

A coarse moment of silence fell over the room, leaving Gerome to simply stare into the cup of tea that had been prepared for them by another servant. The princess was obviously deep in thoughts that he could not understand, the woman still smiling gently while looking across the room with a far off gaze. In a way, he could relate to her whom he had just met; for her it had only been a few months, but she had just received word through another of an important person in another world. He could understand that, despite being unsure of the nature of their relationship. Severa had expressed clearly that Camilla was incredibly important to her, but in the end, she had chosen to return to her home world and Kjelle.

Camilla picked up her cup from the saucer across the table, surprising Gerome as he hadn’t heard her cross the room. After taking a small sip, she stared down at him for a long moment before finally taking a seat as well. “You are from the same world as that child, aren’t you?”

“Did she tell you someone would come?” he asked.

“She said somebody might arrive and they would bring word of her, but she did not say who exactly.”

So she had planned this far in advance. Although impressed, Gerome wasn’t sure what to make of it. He sipped his tea slowly to allow himself time to think.

It didn’t matter, as Camilla continued speaking a minute later. “I told her many times that she was never to leave my side. She was far too important, and she is much more useful here with me in Nohr than she could have been anywhere else. Different world or not.”

“I can’t particularly attest to her feelings.”

Camilla went still.

She lifted her head and giggled, smile never leaving her lips. “You couldn’t, could you?”

Gerome couldn’t imagine the relationship they must have had. To think that Severa, strong, loud mouthed Severa, had served as a loyal subordinate to this woman… it was a combination he couldn’t comprehend. But he could not help but remember the wistful expression on her face as she described her liege, the pure adoration in her voice.

Just speaking with her felt like he was in the midst of battle.

“So,” she began again, changing the topic as she set down her cup, “why is it that you have come to our world as dear Selena has left it? Surely she could not have sent you to serve as a replacement for her position.”

He grimaced. “I should hope she made no promises in my stead.” She certainly hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort. “I came for… to meet with somebody. Another from my world who chose to live amongst your family, whom I care deeply for.” Speaking of his feelings alone was hard work, and yet to express them to a complete stranger felt entirely uncharacteristic. However, he had a feeling it would be in his best interest not to try and lie to this one. And anything to deal with politics that he may have used in an excuse would not have flown past a princess so easily.

“A lover,” she filled in for him, not bothering to wait for confirmation before she continued. “The same thing Selena left us for. Your world has a particularly emotional lot, don’t they?”

“He is one of the current retainers of King Xander,” Gerome ignored her comment sharply. “Selena brought me to you in hopes you could assist me in reuniting with him. As a last favor to her.”

They eyed each other across the table, and even with his mask on, Gerome felt more vulnerable to her stare than he should have been. He had yet to come across any enemies in this new world and he was not sure if he wanted this to be his first. He wasn’t even sure if he had spoken correctly, the few words they had exchanged, but knew what little he had expressed was enough to decide his fate here. After traveling through different worlds, fighting the undead and going against all odds, everything ended up in the hands of one mere woman. It was funny how fate played out.

Camilla tilted her head slightly to the side and spoke in what could only be described as a purr. “Where is your wyvern?”

So she had been able to tell. He was still wearing his armor, after all. “I stationed her outside the town. I don’t believe I would have been welcomed the same way I had if she were with me.”

“You might be true.”

She stood from her chair and adjusted her hair behind her shoulders. Unsure of whether he should wait for commands, Gerome remained in his seat, simply watching as she made her way across the room and back to the door he had entered from.

“Retrieve her,” she commanded, surprising him, “and bring her to the stables here. I’ll be waiting to meet her there. We will return here, after--you haven’t had lunch yet, have you? It is only midday, and you seem to have been travelling for a while.”

He stood after her.

Camilla only turned to peer at him over her shoulder. “Oh, and do tell--what is your name, dear?”

He inhaled a deep breath, feeling his body finally begin to relax after being tense for so long. This was far from what he had expected--this entire situation was. And yet he could do nothing but go along with what he had been given.

Damn ‘Selena.’

“Gerard.”

* * *

 

“Lady Camilla’s room is down the hall. You'll stay in here. Come along.” The girl ushered them off without even opening the room she designated as Gerome’s, and he was at her mercy to follow blindly. As much as he hated it, he had to play kind and polite with little objections for now. This was a miraculous chance Severa had given to him and he wasn't one to look a gift wyvern in the mouth.

Everything was happening at an alarming rate. Once he returned with Minerva, Camilla had introduced him to her own wyvern and allowed him to keep Minerva within the royal stables, seeing as there weren't many wyvern riders outside of the army. She'd then introduced him to the little lady leading him now, Beruka, and was now subject to the barest castle tour he had ever experienced. 

“Down that hall to the left and up the stairs is Camilla’s personal armory.”

“We won't look at it?”

“No. Next.”

If only there were a way for Gerome to express he wanted to be here just as much as she did.

The castle itself was, as to be expected, rather large and decorated in what he could only describe as an exaggerated Plegian style. There was not the freedom and wistfulness that came with Ylissean royalty, everyone bound in high collars and carved armors. It was beautiful, undoubtedly, and suited Gerome's personal tastes more than he had anticipated. It seemed like the kind of place he would decorate if he were more creative.

As for his role here… he had yet to understand. Although Camilla spoke as if he would mostly be taking care of the wyverns in the stables, his room was a few doors from the princess’s own. Regular stable boys weren’t treated so generously.

“The room I'm staying in,” he began, speaking to the girl for the second time since introductions, “is it Selena’s previous lodgings?”

“No… and we are not to go in there. Lady Camilla does not want anything in there disturbed. For ‘memories.’”

He let the conversation drop as Beruka continued with her tour immediately. Something he couldn't identify welled in his chest with the semblance of familiarity towards the princess. 

Gerome's hand subconsciously lifted to the pack at his side. Memories, was it?

He didn’t see Camilla again until dinner time, despite her offer to share lunch. They didn’t eat in any grand dining hall befitting of the palace, instead taking it to a personal room in Camilla’s wing. Only the three of them were present along with maids flitting in and out to refill glasses and remove empty dishes. Camilla sat in a higher chair at the head of the table, with Beruka and Gerome sitting across from each other on either side.

They ate in silence for the first few minutes. Gerome didn’t particularly mind, seeing as it was the most proper meal he had had since arriving in this strange world. He had been going off of small prey hunted and cheap bread for what felt like years.

A glance to his side made it clear that Camilla had noticed. She watched him intently, a smile dancing over her lips. “What do you think, Gerard? Selena said she found the whole place dreary at first, but I like to believe it’s been spruced up since then. Don’t you think so, Beruka?”

The other girl nodded silently, only half listening to the conversation.

Gerome waited until he swallowed the large bite he had clumsily taken before answering. “It’s a beautiful castle--Selena and I have always had different tastes, however, and I believe she would be the first to say that dreariness suits me.”

Another characteristic chuckle flew from Camilla’s mouth, one he was becoming accustomed to. “I might agree; you are no more out of place here than any other armored statue.”

He did feel an affiliation with the armed mannequins lining the halls. Gerome quietly sipped a spoonful of soup without any desire or substance with which to respond.

“But I already have one dreary subordinate. Tell me, would you not enjoy dressing up for once? We are not in a time of war at present, I do believe some high laces would suit you better.”

“I am much more suited to armor and the battlefield than I am to royal pleasantries,” he replied almost immediately, not minding his manners in defiance of… whatever it was she was trying to coax him into. He could only imagine what the clothing here consisted of, and if it were anything like Plegia, he wanted no part of it.

“Is that so?” she pulled a fake pout, one he felt would suit Nowi more than a princess. It was his first cue for suspicion. “What a shame. I did so dearly want to show off my new stablemaster at my brother Xander’s birthday next week.”

So she had already decided on a title until he was to become a retainer, which seemed to be the case at this point. It wasn’t as if it was a poor deal; the closer he was to royalty, the closer he was to finding Inigo. “I don’t believe a king who has participated in many a battle would be so offended by simple armor of his own nation.” 

Camilla’s sigh was loud and exaggerated, and the irritated look of Beruka’s face told Gerome he was really in for something now. “True as you may be, it is hardly proper attire for a ball. Especially when nobles arrive from all across the nation in their best jewels just to see his retainer perform."

So that was her game.

Gerome knew she had won immediately, and she knew it too, if the coy smile she wore was anything to go off of. He had frozen in place with a cup at his mouth and didn’t remove it until he felt composed enough to retort. She watched him expectantly, and for the first time since they had sat down, even Beruka lifted her head to watch him respond.

“I trust your decision and would be honored to escort you, milady.”

The words alone felt sick on his tongue. 


	3. Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so it's been a while and this isn't what everyone wants but this chapter is important regardless  
> but now that I'm back in the fire emblem groove, more to come soon!!!

It came as no surprise that a week’s time was hardly any at all, especially when Gerome only had that long to memorize everything there was about this country, world, royalty, everything. He could hear Severa nagging him to get going sooner and now wished he had just so he’d have more time to prepare. He had only just barely gotten down the names of everyone in the royal family, all that remained was just trying to excuse his way out of everything. Sure, everyone would want to meet Camilla’s new retainer, if he was barely even that. But he had been assured she would help as much as she could.

The day of the new king, Marx’s, birthday rolled around quicker than anticipated. Most of the last few days were spent trying to find suitable attire for the event as he would technically be escorting the first crown princess as well.

They had been getting along relatively well, unexpectedly. Camilla seemed pleased that somebody was able to match her in witty conversation banter, although Gerome was never quite as playful as she. In all honesty, he was just able to defend himself against her attacks better than most, but he would take what he could get at this point.

“Gerard, are you in?” the princess called while opening the door to his semi-private chambers, already knowing the answer. She had told him to wait here for her, after all.

Gerome looked up from where he was reading up on the other nobility who would be attending to greet his new princess, standing to do so. “My lady. You look elegant as ever,” he complimented, knowing it was what she came here for.

A coy giggle. “No need to force yourself; I came here to fix  _ you _ up.”

What he had been dreading.

The beginnings of what he was to wear were draped over a dividing screen, a mix of purples and different shades of grays to black cloth. He was given no say in what he could wear, all the fittings supervised by Camilla, and the only answer she would accept from him was “of course, mistress.” The fact he was still on her good side was something remarkable. Just how had Severa gotten along with her? He couldn’t picture his brash friend being ordered around like this.

Camilla carefully pulled down his outfit and held it in front of herself while humming prettily. “You’ll learn that the clothes in Nohr are something like armor, and our actual armor is more of a formality than anything.”

He watched as she laid out every single layer and piece separate on the bed. “I gathered something like that already.”

“Of course you did; I don’t hire simpletons for my retainers. Now, quickly undress and come here to let me fix you. Oh, don’t give me that look, just do it already!”

He didn’t have much of a choice. With as much ease and speed as he could manage, Gerome stripped off the uniform he had been given one of his first days here. The regular clothes he wore in Nohr were complicated enough, the idea of wearing something even larger was outrageous to even think of. He shivered as Camilla approached him, holding out the undermost layer.

He blanched. “Isn’t that a bit… scarce?”

Camilla blinked before a grin split her face in half. She chuckled while twirling in her own dress, hands coming to rest on her own revealed bosom. “Would it not be suitable to match?”

She would be the death of him.

Regardless, he began to slide the thin, silk-like layer of clothing on. The top was no more than a regular black dress shirt that fell loosely on his arms but clung to his chest and the cuffs on his wrists, though it dipped rather low and revealed the majority of his collarbone. What made him fear it, however, was how the back was nearly completely open. Camilla began toting over other pieces as he finished tying the laces up the front.

Gerome narrowly caught the black trousers thrown to him, thinking nothing of them until he realized how tightly fitted they were while attempting to put them on. He heard Camilla ‘tsk’ before walking over to assist him as a mother would.

The next was another unsurprisingly tight piece of clothing, this time resembling armor more than anything. As Gerome began to dress himself in the deep purple vest, Camilla quickly caught his hands.

“No, no, dear,” she chastised, undoing the few laces he had tied in the front, “you’re wearing it all wrong. Turn around.” After she extracted the offending article from his body, he did as instructed, only to find the vest being slid on him once again--backwards. “It ties in the back, see?"   


He watched as she laced the back in horror. “You make me dress like a nobleman’s whore,” Gerome muttered, seeing his back from the mirror.

“It’s just enough hint of skin so everyone knows you are mine. Plus, you are muscled enough everyone will swoon at the sight of your toned back, see?” A poke between his shoulder blades made him shiver. “Nothing feminine about it."

Before Gerome could continue arguing, Camilla had disappeared once again to grab more clothing. Thankfully the second vest covered more of his back than the first, leaving only his shoulder blades and in between to the air. The second vest, black and gold, was low enough to see the purple in the front and acted more as a coat with how low it drooped to his knees in the back. 

He didn’t pay as much attention to the rest of what she did, tying belts and sashes here and there, extending his collar higher up his neck, folding and refolding cravats… It was only when he was handed gloves and more familiar armored boots did Gerome pay attention to what the princess had evidently been talking about the entire time.

“...and obviously, Prince Leo will be back from his patrol for tonight as well, so you will be able to meet Odin also. You two were familiar as well, yes?”

“That’s correct, milady,” he answered flawlessly on time, though he had a feeling she knew he hadn’t been listening by the sly grin on her face.

Camilla took a step back to admire her work. “Very nice,” she said, “perhaps we should make your riding armor in similar fashion?”

“I would appreciate not, milady.”

She giggled yet again and left to retrieve a small box that had been brought with his outfit. “The finishing touches, now, come sit down.”

He did as told, seating himself in front of a vanity where Camilla pulled up her own seat. Servants had brought an array of boxes and bottles earlier and set them there, and he had been dreading this moment all day. With great consideration, the princess picked up a jar filled with a light cream.

“I’ll not have my new retainer looking anything less than perfect,” she hummed, removing her gloves so she may scoop a dollop of the cream and begin swiping his face strategically. Gerome figured it’d be best to close his eyes and let it happen.

“Will Beruka not be attending?”

“I’m having her attend to something else for me at the moment. Have you two become closer?”

“Not particularly.” Beruka was certainly the most sane soul he had met here, however. They respected each other in silence.

Gerome winced as another object--a brush, evidently, began gliding over his face and other powders and creams were applied. “She’s a good girl, simply quiet. I suppose you two just respect each other silently, right?”

Chills.

An unusually comfortable silence wafted over them then, leaving Gerome to sit in his own thoughts while Camilla prepared him like a dish to be served at dinner. He never thought he would feel empathy with whatever animal they were currently roasting in the kitchen. At some point, Camilla began humming to herself and Gerome found himself enjoying what felt like a light massage over his face. If anything, her touch was at least gentle, though the only thing keeping him from fully relaxing was knowing just a hint of what she really was.

Not a bad person, but complex.

“I used to do this for Selena all the time, she began, voice quiet. Reverent. “You would think she, my servant, should dress me and paint my face. She tried, when I instructed her, but her first attempts made me look no better than a jester.” Camilla giggled at the memory, pausing to think on her next words. Gerome masked his expression until she finished. “Instead, I decided I would teach her myself. I sat her down at a vanity similar to this and did the same thing now. She was so happy when I finished, absolutely beaming…

“Later, when I was doing her makeup another day, she confided in me. That Selena, she told me she never had the chance to learn how to use powders, colors, or perfumes. She only barely understood fashion, as her parents died too soon for her to live with such luxuries.” 

He knew exactly what she spoke of. Multiple times, Gerome and their friends had found Severa staring at herself sadly in the mirror while playing with her hair or the hem of her clothes. Kjelle had explained it to him later on one of their lonely nights together, Severa’s insecurities and love for all things fashionable and pretty. 

“I vowed I would never let her appear less than perfect ever again,” Camilla continued, “and often bought her specifically tailored gifts of dresses and clothes. Even so… she never wore them. She told me she was happy for my gifts, but she preferred to wear the armor that allowed her to protect and fight alongside me at all times… can you believe her?”

“She’s a girl of honor,” Gerome finally said. “Even if she values material things, she keeps the people she loves as her highest priority.”

“That’s the kind of woman she is.” Camilla’s voice was far off, and suddenly Gerome felt like he was not supposed to have heard half the things she said. Most of it was probably for her own sake, reminiscing on the time she had with her precious retainer.

Before he could comment on it, the feather like touch on his face finally ceased.

“Open your eyes.”

He did.

Sure enough, Gerome was surprised by the reflection looking back at him. He had half expected her to paint him up like a prostitute with bright red lips and dramatic eye paints. Instead, most of the changes were subtle--evening out his skin tone, accentuating the already strong curve of his jaw and cheekbones, and the thinnest line of black paint around his eyes. Most intriguing was the bright glitter swiped over his cheekbones and eyelids, invisible until he turned and the light was caught.

“Do you understand what I’m getting at, Gerard?”

He turned back to meet her eyes, her features unreadable.

“Selena was one of my most precious people. If it were not for my great love for her…” She came to stand behind him, hands on his shoulders as she met Gerome’s eye in the mirror. “You would not be enjoying the life you have now. But my debt to her is not eternal; you will have to prove yourself worthy of staying here as well.”

She was right. Although Gerome’s first and foremost intention was reuniting with Inigo, the situation went deeper than just that. He could not ignore the rest of the world around them. The entire reason he came here was because Inigo could not leave--which meant by all means, Gerome had to do whatever it took to stay. Being in the same world was not enough. Not only was this physically a new world, but everything he was used to would have to change; from soldier, to mercenary, to royal retainer.

He had to make these changes and take them seriously if he was to have any chance at remaining here.

“I will not disappoint you with my efforts tonight, milady,” he began, pausing to take a deep breath. “You have my undying gratitude for everything up until this point.”

He dared not meet her face immediately as she did not respond. When he finally did glance at her from the mirror however, Gerome watched as a smile finally returned to her face.

“Then we ought to both put on a show, shouldn’t we?” Finally, the box she had brought over took the stage. Putting her gloves back on, Camilla reached in and pulled out a new mask Gerome hadn’t known he was receiving. The design resembled the style of Camilla’s armor, still sharp yet more delicate than his regular mask. The edges of the top were painted gold, while the bottom of the mask carved his face more subtly than his original.

It wasn’t bad. With all the care in the world, she situated the mask on his face and allowed him a minute to take it in.

“Tonight, you are officially Gerard, royal retainer, protector, and eternal ally of the first Crown Princess Camilla of Nohr,” she spoke with strength behind her words. Instead of standing, Gerome went to one knee before her, head dipped low. “However, our contract is not a one way street. Should you pledge your life to me, you will find yourself protected just the same, and given a place in this palace.”

It wasn’t an option, and they both knew it.

“My loyalty is unyielding, your highness. It is an honor to be given a place to serve by your side.”

The day was full of surprises; somehow, his words were not untrue.

What began as an alliance out of obligation as a means to an end was gradually shifting the more he learned about this princess.

It was also only now he realized his friend had a selfish reason to help send him here.

_ Severa _ , he thought, wishing she could hear him,  _ I’ll take good care of your princess _ .


	4. Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> au revoir i wrote this so fuckin fast man
> 
> please remember to leave comments and kudos, they make me so very happy

_ Gerome was sweating. _

_ He knew Inigo knew--knew it by the way he held his hand even tighter as if it would turn to water and slip out at any moment. A glance to the side. Inigo’s shy smile asking if he was okay without words.  _

_ This was new territory for them. Although they had been together for years now, Gerome always held back anywhere in public or around anyone they knew. This was something like a gift to Inigo, being able to walk down the streets of a busy town with their hands clasped together. _

_ Gerome wasn’t blind. He could see the looks some villagers sent them, ranging from confusion to disgust to anger. _

_ He knew Inigo knew, locking their fingers together. He was sweating too. _

_ If Gerome had it his way, this would be normal for them. They would go everywhere together locked at the hand. No women would look at his lover with lustful eyes, knowing Inigo belonged to him. _

_ But the world wasn’t that kind. _

_ “This is… okay, right?” Inigo had asked him one night, their hands together just like today. _

_ Gerome only nodded at the time, young and unaware of the weight of his words. “Of course. I wouldn’t let you do something that wasn’t.” _

_ Inigo’s growth in terms of their relationship was something Gerome was pleased to experience firsthand. Yet, not all the time in the world could prepare what he knew was still a fragile heart for the outside world. _

_ At a particularly harsh bump from a villager walking the opposite direction, Gerome let go. Both Inigo’s hand and face fell immediately. _

_ “I can’t do this,” Gerome said as if it were the simplest thing to understand. He couldn’t watch so many people hate Inigo from a first look, and he couldn’t be the cause of it. Inigo’s wet hands, his face flushed with shame, the short steps he took to make himself small--it was all torture. _

_ Inigo shrunk at his side, but kept close. _

_ “It’s ok.” _

* * *

 

During his tour conducted by Beruka, Gerome had familiarized himself with the grand ballroom as much as he could in the minute they spent inside before moving on. His first impression was not untrue--it was grand. He would not have been surprised to find half the budget of building the palace went into this room alone. All Beruka had said about it was how there had been a grand remodeling after the death of the previous king, supervised by Camilla with input by the new monarch, King Xander. It was why she included it on the tour.

The ballroom was sweeping, in one word. The floor was vast and open black marble floors were daunting, but made open by the sweeps of glimmering white that created an elaborate pattern across the entire room. As with the rest of the castle, the walls were adorned with tapestries and portraits by every inch so that the original color of the walls couldn’t be determined. Grand chandeliers and candles by every door were the only source of light in the room, coating the atmosphere with a thick, syrupy amber. At the very center of the ceiling, a large, purple curtain-like tapestry covered the ceiling so it could only be viewed if one strained their neck.

Now with the celebration of the king’s birthday at hand, more decor had been rushed into the room.

Grand tables surrounded the outside of the room with magnificent centerpieces holding vases of glowing water and bright red and violet flowers. Each chair was ornate, the tablecloths perfect, and near the center of the room was a raised dais for the royal family. Whereas retainers would usually remain close to their lieges, tonight they had been instructed to keep a distance--after all, it was a family event. For them to intrude would be seen as impudent and arrogant. Thus, they arranged themselves to sit with each other as well as others who served in the castle.

Gerome wrung his gloved hands together as he watched the servants flit about the room. It was not yet time for them to make their entrance, as the greater nobles of Nohr were only just entering the palace. Even so, he couldn’t help but feel anxious watching them all file in.

This night would determine everything. His standing with Camilla. His role in the palace. His place in this entire world.

His relationship with Inigo.

“Could it be--!?” a familiar voice gasped from behind, and Gerome turned to meet it.

His eyes went wide at the sight.

“Lo and behold, I knew my eyes would not betray their master!” All at once, Owain was running towards him, wearing a cloak over his clothes that he could only assume was from the journey they had just returned from. He was definitely more… mature. Taller, more defined, and far from the child he used to be. Gerome hardly had a chance to take in the extent of his new…  _ dramatic _ appearance before he was grappled into a brotherly hug.

“Owa-- _ Odin _ , it is… reassuring to see you have been d--”

“Oh, quiet you fool! Now is not the time for formalities!” Owain said, though he kept a tone of grandeur regardless. He held Gerome out at arm’s length, taking him in from head to toe before a modest, genuine smile graced his features. “It really has been years, hasn’t it… age suits you well, my dear comrade! Our most elegant partner,  _ Laslow _ ,” he winked, mostly to imply the name as if Gerome did not know who he was speaking of, “will find a new quest alone in retrieving you from future suitors!”

“I hardly believe it.” Even so, Gerome found himself smiling as well. He had come to this world with the promise of reuniting with his lover, but he had greatly missed two of his best friends as well. Their entire squadron of misfits had become much quieter with Owain gone. “I am glad… to discover you have not changed, Odin.”

Owain let go of him to reach up and tap the mask on his face. “And neither have you! If there was ever a doubt in our minds that we may not recognize the well aged face of our newest hero, you have cured us of our ailments indeed!”

From the way Owain’s grin widened, Gerome could only assume the change on his face was noticeable.

“Is he…?”

“Yes, the king’s march returned early this morning. They should all be preparing for the night’s festivities, so-”

“Odin!” The two both turned to see who was addressing him, only to find the first Prince of Nohr waiting in one of the servants’ entrances to the ballroom. Gerome had seen portraits of him in the halls enough to recognize Leo, and he would have bowed to show respect if he were expecting it. Instead, Leo didn’t seem to notice him at all, cold eyes trained on his retainer. 

“Milord!” Owain immediately brightened in such a way Gerome had not seen in a long time. He trotted towards him happily before falling into a posed, dramatic bow before him. When he looked up at his master, though, confusion befell his features at his attire. “Uh, milord…? Is there a hidden dress code for tonight’s event? Or rather, a lack-of-dress code?”

Gerome took a moment to scan the prince up and down. Had he not recognized his portraits, he wouldn’t assume he was of royalty by his appearance now. Leo was hardly dressed in nothing more than a loose nightshirt and untied slacks and, as if suddenly conscious of his attire, shuffled the door to the servants’ quarters he stood behind it.

His brows furrowed at Owain’s words. “I remember ordering you to my chamber an hour ago to help me dress.” Owain visibly tensed under Leo’s hard glare. “And, when requesting Niles to track you down, he reported you were nowhere to be found, thus forcing your own prince to look himself…”

“Mi...milord!” Owain quickly fell prostrate before him, lowering himself as far to the floor as he could. “You must forgive your servant’s insolence! I should offer my own sword hand as compensation for this grievance, and--”

“Oh, hush, Odin,” Leo said while walking out from his place of hiding. His eyes finally fell upon Gerome who quickly straightened his posture. “You are Camilla’s new retainer in training,” he noted aloud while giving him a good once over.

_ “It’s true that Owain fell in love with his lord…”  _ Severa’s voice repeated in his head.

Gerome bowed the appropriate distance. “It is an honor, milord.”

During the small exchange, Owain finally stood and dusted himself off. “We are partners in conquest, my liege! Sir Gerard and I have a history of grandeur; I am most confident in his abilities!”

Leo nodded slowly, as if processing Owain’s words for something other than what he had said directly. “So you are from the same… home.”

Gerome wasn’t given an opportunity to answer before Leo turned on heel and he was met with his back.

“You are forgiven, Odin. Let us make haste; we will speak more in the future, Gerard.”

“We will reconvene at the celebration, Gerard!” Odin called after him, already taking off to return to his prince.

Before the door closed behind them, however, Gerome certainly didn’t miss the sight of Leo’s hand reaching for his retainer’s.

_ “You mean to say Owain, our Owain fell in love?!” _

If only Kjelle could see them now.

* * *

 

Gerome returned to his rooms after meeting with Owain, feeling more at ease than he had all day. In the mourning of his lover, Gerome wasn’t able to concentrate on feeling the empty space where his other friends had once been. Now, he didn’t understand how it had been possible not to; he and Owain had actually been rather close in the past. While the man tended to get on his nerves rather often with his pathetic delusions, he kept the spirits of their troop high. They were closer after the war, for sure.

Thankfully, he was finally capable of maneuvering at least half of the palace without asking for directions. Stopping in front of Camilla’s quarters, he lifted a gloved hand to knock on her door. “Gerard, milady,” he announced as Beruka had taught him.

The reply was immediate. “Come in, dear! You’re just in time.”

Camilla was already done up in her finest, armor traded for a slim gown which showed only her best features, though Gerome wasn’t sure if she had any features that were less than perfect. She was, admittedly, one of the most gorgeous women he had ever seen, second only to his own mother who held priority.

“Help me with my makeup, won’t you?”

The question sent chills down his spine as he remembered the conversation they had had earlier that day. He knew she was perfectly capable of painting herself--this was another one of her tests. The wicked smile she wore gave it away.

Gerome nodded and approached the princess where she sat at her vanity. “It may be in your own best interest to instruct me, your highness… very carefully, I might add.”

Camilla giggled while sorting out her brushes on the desk. “I wouldn’t dare let you touch my little finger without intense instruction, dear. Watch as I do…” Before he could agree, Gerome found himself yanked down and experiencing an uncomfortably cold breeze on his face as she tugged the new mask off of him. “Close one of your eyes… there, that’s a good man. We’ll start with a medium brush, like this one--remember this, Gerard--and dip it in this power…”

It was hardly a lesson at all.

Halfway through, Gerome recognized she was only making more excuses to play with his face and emotions more than she had already. At the end, once she deemed him “even more beautiful than before” she dismissed him to wait with her for the feast as she did her makeup herself.

His princess was a viper, through and through.

Gerome observed himself in the mirror while she fixed herself, feeling more than seeing the redness that rose to his cheeks (they were covered with too much paint to see). The fiend had covered his eyelids in dark colors and patterns more befitting for a woman than a man, and he knew there was simply no asking for it to be removed. This is how she wanted to be seen with him for the rest of the night…

Noticing his uncomfortable silence, Camilla glanced up at her retainer in the mirror. “My, don’t look so sour, you may put your mask back on--I did not have it made for nothing!”

Of all her orders so far, he accomplished this with the most vigor. The makeup he had been made to wear earlier hadn’t emasculated him, thankfully, but this was pushing the limits of his comfort. Damn the royalty of this world--where were the princes and princesses he was able to fight beside as comrades, like Lucina and Chrom? He hadn’t thought he would miss them in particular until now.

Camilla did not stand until a knock resounded throughout the room from the door.

It was finally time.

Although his heart felt like it may beat out of his chest, Gerome maintained his composure while offering a hand to Camilla who grabbed his entire arm in hers instead. “Let’s enjoy ourselves tonight, Gerard,” she offered kindly as they walked out of the room. At this point, the only ones in the halls were maids and butlers who all stopped to line the halls with respect to the princess and her escort. She hardly paid them any mind, but nodded at those who managed to make eye contact with her. 

_ She isn’t cruel _ , Gerome noted,  _ but she is far from soft _ .

“Tonight will be an example for future events,” Camilla said, “as I will help direct you now, but I expect you to have every piece of knowledge necessary for the very next banquet. Yes?”

“Of course,” he agreed, as if there was any other answer.

Whenever it seemed Gerome would walk them in the wrong direction, Camilla merely tugged at his arm and steered them instead until they were before a large pair of double doors that had been closed earlier. Evidently, they were the second pair of royalty to arrive after Leo with both of his retainers. All nobles attending applauded the entrance of their first princess, while each maid and butler bowed deep at the waist.

It was far different from anything he had ever experienced in Ylisse. Perhaps this was more suitable for Plegia--not that that was a  _ bad _ thing.

As they approached the dais designated for royalty, Gerome was not unaware of the whispers and chatters that flitted about them. All had been made aware that Camilla would be displaying her newest retainer tonight, but without any description, he had been clouded in mystery. Now dressed in a provocative black outfit and a crisp mask, there appeared to be more questions than answers.

“They’ll eat you up,” Camilla whispered as he helped her into her seat. “You’re the type of mystery us Nohrians love to pick apart.”

“Like vultures?”

“Not unlike them.”

He left it at that. Before they had come, he had learned that for tonight’s event, retainers would set separate from their masters. After all, it was a family event to celebrate the birthday of the king. With practiced eased, Gerome turned on heel once Camilla waved him off and marched with his hands behind his back to the table designated for those close at hand to the royal family.

He recognized Owain first by his bright blond hair--and whatever he had been hiding behind that cloak earlier today was all out now. Thankfully, Gerome managed to school his expression behind his mask, but had he been bare… he may have caused a scene.

Severa had mentioned Owain had gained power since coming here, now a dark magician with great skill. What he didn’t expect was this… attire. It might even be more drastic than those worn back in Plegia.

Owain waved at him to sit beside him before he could say anything. “Sir Gerard, I’m pleased to see you did not cower from such a fateful event!” he spoke, voice lower than his usual booming standards due to the quiet nature of the room. Gerome could only nod in agreement, still in shock by his… gallant abs and… fine features. “Surely you have heard tales of the combined efforts of Prince Leo’s retinue--the Great Odin Dark and Niles, assistant to yours truly.”

“Oh, I’m assistant now, is it?” Gerome had only vaguely noticed the man sitting beside Owain, but now made to converse with him, he diverted his attention. The man with one eye gave him a good look up and down before his mouth curved upwards like a cat. “It’s nice to meet you, Gerard. I enjoyed your entrance--or at least, the back of it.”

He suddenly became conscious of his openly laced back in his current attire.

Curse that wretched woman.

“I’m sure you’ll make a lovely asset to the palace.” Had he two eyes, Gerome was certain he would have been the recipient of a lewd wink right about now. Just the thought made him shiver.

“Had it not been for your perverse leering, it would have been nice meeting you,” he grumbled, secretly pleased to finally have someone he could be cruel to once again. Keeping appearances at all time was difficult.

Thankfully, Niles did not appear to take the comment to heart (laughed, actually) and left him alone as his attention was refocused on the entry of the Second Princess, Elise. He had done nothing to catch her eye, and without event, she sat beside her sister and her own retainers came to join the three already present at the table. They all exchanged brief introductions, neither of them particularly keeping Gerome’s interest as a royal messenger stood in the center of the ballroom and gave an announcement.

“All rise to respect his highness, King Xander of Nohr!”

In perfect unison, every soul present stood from their seats and bowed before applauding the entrance of their great king.

Gerome decided then that the portraits did no justice. Xander’s very presence demanded submission and approval, though he carried himself with the ease of a man who had been raised for this very position. Once he caught sight of his siblings, his war-trained face fell into an easy smile as he was enveloped by each in hugs of varying intensity. That was the cue for everyone to sit back down, although Gerome lingered in a moment of panic as Xander’s first retainer, Peri, bounced her way over to the rest of them.

Where was he?

He made to ask Odin, though as if sensing his friend’s question, the mage simply tugged on his coat for him to sit. Gerome obeyed with a confused look, only receiving a wink in return.

Although he meant to, Gerome could not focus on a single word of Xander’s opening speech. All he knew was he was thanking everyone for coming. Apparently Owain could tell he lost focus as well from the way he was snickering.

“And now,” Xander began after a pause for everyone to clap at whatever he had said previously, “I would like to welcome my retainer and dearest friend to the center of your attentions, as he has so generously offered his talents for this event.”

Another round of applause was the only thing that kept everyone from hearing the outrageous beating of Gerome’s heart. This was it. Years and years of waiting, thinking the most precious person he’d ever had was dead, all led up to this. He couldn’t even bring his hands together to clap. He was vaguely aware of Owain’s hand on his thigh for support, eyes fixed to the center of the ballroom as all candles besides those in the middle were blown out.

The entire room went dark except for the center where the tiles on the floor had been brought together in a patterned circle of the country’s crest, glittering off the candle fires.

From the darkness of the front of the room, a man stepped forward and into the light with bright, unforgettable grey hair.

All at once, Gerome forgot how to breathe as the single thing he had been chasing and mourning simultaneously for years stood before him, oblivious to his presence.

“Your praise humbles me, my king,” the man said as he bent low on the floor in a submissive bow, the light, flowing cloth of his outfit spreading out around him like a fairy pool. Only when he lifted his head, half covered by a translucent cloth over his nose and mouth, did Gerome clearly see his eyes, glistening with pride.

Inigo.

When he stood, the silk of his outfit glistened in the light with every movement, bathing him both in mystery and radiance.

All at once Gerome remembered hiding behind bushes, watching a silhouette dance by the lake at midnight. A silhouette that would cower and crinkle whenever he misstepped or prepared to leave, that brightened with shame whenever the subject was breached.

Now, Gerome’s eyes were trained on the man standing tall in the center of a royal ballroom filled with hundreds of people and the highest authority of the country all at once.

It had been years.

Gerome could recognize the inspiration for his outfit, driven both from his own mother’s uniform as well as the previous princess of Nohr who now resided elsewhere, Azura. Material gathered at a golden neckline, almost like a collar with an intricate design carved outside. His shoulders were bare, but dark purple gloves were painted all the way up his arms. Similarly, most of his chest and back were bare. Only small, transparent ribbons and cuts of purple fabric around his the middle of his chest gave him any decency from the waist up.

However, those same ribbons wrapped around his hips like snakes, doing nothing to hide the tantalizing curve of his waist down to his legs. Similar gold collars acted like garters atop his thighs, pinning down more see-through material that was woven around his legs and hips. The only completely opaque clothing was what appeared to be half of a short skirt, covering his loins and the top half of one of his legs.

In his hands, he held familiar rings that connected a thick ribbon, just like his mother’s were it not for the deep purple coloring.

In a single word, he was breathtaking. And sure enough, Gerome wasn’t breathing.

He could never describe himself as an emotional person, per se. Crying had never been his thing, and the most he ever got when happy was a small smile. Laughter was rare, and he kept all of his emotions hidden behind a mask for the facade of strength.

Suddenly, he wanted to express every emotion he’d ever experienced all at once. And even then wouldn’t be enough to describe what he was currently feeling.

Awe. Happiness. Sadness. Ire. Lust. Everything, and also nothing at all.

He could cry, laugh, and yell all at the same time and it wouldn’t be enough.

Instead, he showed nothing--Owain’s hand remained tight on his knee nevertheless. He at least knew Gerome well enough to have an idea of what he was thinking now.

In the time he had taken to try and comprehend his own emotions, the orchestra he had only somewhat been informed of finished setting up in the back of the room and Inigo was positioning himself to begin. Although the dance had not started, he moved with an eased grace as he wrapped his arms around himself and arched his back, tilting his head towards the tapestry covering the ceiling as it was slowly brought down and to the side. Its purpose finally became apparent; above Inigo was a wide window, casting the center of the room in magnificent starlight.

With the first note of music, it began.

The dance was slow, Inigo elegant with every movement. Each swing of his arms, swivel of his hip, turn of his leg, was entirely practiced and precise to the point of perfection. It was not entirely dissimilar to the style of dance he had practiced in Ylisse with his mother, but there was something else to it now. A difference in the way his wrists flowed and how he carried himself across the floor.

Confidence.

Pride.

Assurance.

With every step he took, Inigo knew exactly what he was doing, no longer dancing for his own amusement. He lifted his arms above his head, hands holding his rings together before he turned quickly on one foot and lowered one hand in a swaying motion, the ribbon in his hands like a waterfall down his body. Under the cloth, Gerome could make out his expression, could have told just from the look in his half-lidded eyes and parted mouth.

Inigo was happy.

This was his euphoria. His paradise.

Out of nowhere, a vision came to mind of his love in a different world, dancing freely and without worry or trauma to stumble him. The crowd applauded loudly and he bowed, just as humble as his mother. A world where Inigo has everything he could have ever wanted. There is no war to stop him, his mother is aged and alive, and approaching him from the audience comes a woman and her babe to greet him--

Gerome shut his thoughts off and focused on the scene before him.

The song appeared to be nearing its end, and with each quiet note, Inigo’s movements became slower, more reverent and peaceful. He was grace and elegance, as if he should be a part of the royal family as well with his beauty alone granting him entry. No, a god. It was the first time he had seen Inigo truly enjoying peace for what it was worth since the war ended, and he moved like water with it.

Finally, the dancer brought his hands to either shoulder, holding himself with his eyes closed.

To an onlooker, Inigo had danced with a natural ease, gifted by Naga (or whatever god they worshipped here) herself. Gerome knew differently, however--he had been working for a long time.

After all, this was his life’s work.

A few moments passed in silence until finally, Inigo lifted his head to meet the eye of his king who had been watching intently throughout the performance. The audience as well waited for Xander to make a move, remaining silent as he stood from his honored seat.

As soon as the first resounding clap came from their king, the entire room burst into life, cheering and applauding loudly for the dancer.

Inigo immediately lost his posture, collapsing into a slouched position while standing in the middle of the open area. Behind the dark curtain over his face, any could see the bright grin split across his face at the praise, his eyes crinkling in a way Gerome recognized meant he was holding back tears. Inigo prostrated himself before Xander once more, tributing the entire performance to him, before he stood--only to find the king was moving from his table to the center of the room to greet him.

“You’ve done well, Laslow,” Xander smiled more at the way Inigo’s face brightened than anything. “Your skills bring great pride to all of Nohr.”

“Milord… thank you, Xander!” Inigo gushed, although only the few tables situated closer to the center were able to hear the conversation. With a familiar pat on the head by Xander, Inigo quickly took off and out of the room, likely to change, as the king returned to his table and announced the beginning of the feast.

Just like that, the spell was broken.

Gerome was back in his own body, Owain’s hand doing wonders at grounding him to his seat. As soon as he looked over at the other man, he retracted his hand with an exasperated smile.

“Tell me, Gerard, have you  _ always _ been this smitten with him?” he asked as a joke, though Gerome could pick up the serious question beneath.

Not many of their friends had ever seen them being openly affectionate around them, despite the two of them being together for quite some time. Owain was included in that.

Unable to remove the smile from his face, Gerome simply lowered his head to see where his hand dug into his pocket, retrieving a wadded up piece of white silk ribbon that still smelled of Inigo. By now it was completely wrinkled and worn out by travel.

“Evidently.”

* * *

 

For what it was worth, the feast itself was more than Gerome had ever experienced--at least food wise. Not much compared to the grand banquet in Ylisse after the war had finally ended and he was with all of his friends and family at once.

Here, the celebration was about grace and poise more than anything, although he could tell it was only because he had just recently joined. Owain seemed to be having the time of his life, telling large stories to the other retainers at the table who received them wholeheartedly. They all appeared incredibly close, as were every other servant and soldier who came to converse.

Gerome didn’t think he would ever be so thankful for the moment Camilla swooped in and lifted him from his seat by his hand. “You’re in high demand, dear,” she explained, walking him around the room, “but my elder brother is really quite excited to meet my new guardian. In fact, I believe his own retainer has just recently joined us once again.” He held back any expression that would give any excitement away, but Camilla smiled coyly anyways.

“Of course… it’d be an honor.”

Unfortunately the evening could not proceed so slowly. They were stopped by many nobles, commanders, and close friends curious about the disappearance of Camilla’s last retainer and her quick replacement. Gerome let her speak for the most part, only speaking up to offer a ‘how do you do’ or ‘the pleasure is mine’ he had practiced in the mirror for days. Being polite to everyone all the time was growing exhausting.

“You can’t blame them for their curiosity,” Camilla hummed once they were away from another family. “The people take great pride in their royal family, after all.”

“I’d rather not spend the entire night as an accessory,” he grumbled.

Camilla could not hold back a delicate laugh behind her hand. “You have accepted every job Selena once performed, so you have no choice. Plus, what a handsome accessory to have around!”

“Hearing that from you doesn’t make me happy--”

“Sister,” a powerful voice interrupted them, and Gerome immediately slipped back into his professional facade. He’d be hanged if anyone heard the way he spoke to their princess right after being hired.

Locked in arms, they turned around together in a practiced motion to greet their guest.

Gerome inhaled sharply; it was none other than King Xander.

Camilla’s face became soft as her eyes fell upon him, detaching herself from Gerome to greet him. “Brother,” she cooed, taking his face in her hands, “are you not busy entertaining the many who came to adore you?”

Surprisingly, the stoic man chuckled at her words. “Of course. However, I would not be a proper brother if I did not come to inspect the man my sister has taken up to protect her without any formal word.”

Shit. Of course it was suspicious how quickly she had him hired. He looked to Camilla for guidance, but she merely laughed and stepped back to take his arm once more. “He simply struck me, Xander. Just like how you picked up some champion off the streets, right?” The hand that wasn’t holding his arm came up to trickle down the clothed part of his chest.  “Oh, and speaking of which…”

Gerome couldn’t follow a conversation about those he had never heard of before. Even so, he picked up something was happening as Xander turned around as somebody (the presumed ‘champion’) approached.

“Laslow, come here for a moment, will you?”

Every muscle in his body tensed.

Sure enough, coming to stand by the king’s side was a familiar dancer, now wearing formal, quilted clothing instead of his dancing attire. Gerome watched his face as he approached and how his expressions changed.

Pleasant. Confused. Polite.

Recognition.

Finally next to his lord, the dancer had frozen altogether. His expression was not surprised, but more along the lines of one awed. This wasn’t a mere ‘surprise’ after all.

Gerome broke the silence. “It’s a pleasure to acquaint you both,” he recited his rehearsed lines, bowing at the waist for the king. When he came back up, however, his eyes were trained on  Inigo’s face. “I am Gerard, Princess Camilla’s most recent retainer and Wyvern master.”

“Quite the pick, isn’t he?” Camilla laughed easily, and he could tell she knew exactly what was going on as she clung to him with both arms. Gerome remained stiff. “On an evening stroll, I ran into him after Marzia fell ill. He was tending to his own wyvern, and the two immediately hit it off…”

As Camilla continued with her fantastically fake story, Gerome kept his eyes trained on Inigo’s face. It was obvious he wasn’t listening to a word she was saying. He wanted to tell him to at least try and act proper, put on a front so they might not cause a scene, but Gerome remained silent. His princess had told him he needn’t speak much, anyways.

“I must thank you for all you have already done for my sister, Gerard,” Xander’s deep voice cut in and Gerome refocused his attention on the man. “I trust Camilla’s judgement, but mind my hesitance to willingly accept any stranger into our household until he has proven himself.”

“Of course, milord. It has been an honor serving milady thus far. I hope to make myself useful to the Kingdom of Nohr.” As Gerome spoke, it was as if Inigo finally broke from a trance, blinking repeatedly before he gasped and earned the attention of both royal siblings,

“Laslow?”

“Look what you’ve done, Gerard,” Camilla chastised, grabbing his chin to force him to face her. “Your ghastly appearance has frightened our maiden-hearted dancer. Why don’t you make yourself scarce and tend to Marzia for tonight? You must be exhausted from those attempting to poke holes in you all night.”

He knew precisely what she was doing. Thankful for the (rudely worded) out, Gerome nodded and bowed once more. “If you’ll excuse me, milady, my king.

With that, he took off, not bothering to spare Inigo another look for fear of what he might do. Had it been anyone else, Gerome would have thought he had horrified the man after insulting him directly. He nodded towards Owain on the way out and made his exit through the servants’ entrance he had seen beforehand.

They hadn’t discussed what the plan for tonight would be. Camilla had simply told him to follow her lead, and that was enough for him. Had he been let loose, it definitely would not have proceeded as (relatively) smoothly as it did. Gerome was able to stalk his way through the corridors hidden by the shadow, not that any of the busy servants would even think twice of seeing him. He just didn’t like being observed by anyone, especially not while he was thinking so diligently.

The wyvern stables were a good ways away from the palace, off of Camilla’s wing. He had become most accustomed to this route as it led to Minerva. Never had he needed her more than now--except maybe the first few weeks after going back in time. She was always his greatest support, sometimes more than his own friends. At her stable now, Gerome reached out and she immediately ducked her head to nuzzle her snout under his palm. No matter what, he would always have this… 

“This is where we are, Minerva…” he whispered, observing the stables once again. None of the wyverns were too close together, thankfully, so there were no worries of a fight breaking out. Even so, the only ones allowed in the main stables were Marzia, Minerva, and Beruka’s steed; all others had separate quarters.

Without warning, Minerva tensed and let out a low growl.

Gerome’s brows furrowed. Perhaps she didn’t enjoy being so close with other wyverns? She did tend to enjoy the company of people more at times… or maybe she was itching to get out and fly again, as it had been a while. Or--

“Gerome?”

It was the first time since he arrived here that somebody had called him by his real name.

It was also the first time in years he had heard  _ him _ say it.

With his hand still on Minerva’s snout, Gerome turned himself around to face his intruder.

His intruder with wide, chestnut brown eyes and a shaky bottom lip.

Gerome took a deep breath.

“Inigo.”


	5. You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can you believe some people have regular update schedules. who the fuck?
> 
> i actually wrote the first half of this a long time ago and didn't finish until today. i cut it off where it was (sorry) so it wouldn't get TOO long. sorry!

_ "Did you see him?" _

_ Inigo nodded, eyes staring past Gerome in a far off place. He closed the door behind him quietly and nodded to signal he was ready to leave. So they did. _

_ Gerome hadn't bother going to see Cherche after she gave birth to the Gerome of this world. He wasn't needed in their lives anymore, and it felt as if he would have tainted the child by being near it. That Gerome deserved a life of unending love and devotion from his parents who were already so different from the ones he had been raised with after the war. Inigo, on the other hand, had insisted they return once news spread of Olivia's labor. _

_ "Inigo..." he began again after they had walked in silence for nearly an hour. It was one thing to give a man time, another to give it to Inigo. _

_ "Olivia's a good mother, isn't she?" _

_ It wasn't the response he expected. "She raised you well," he said. _

_ "I didn't care about the baby," Inigo admitted in a whisper, "but I saw her... I saw Olivia, holding her child... and I felt warm." _

_ Little by little, their walking figures began to grow closer together until they stopped in the middle of the empty road with Inigo all but leaning into Gerome. _

_ "I saw... myself." _

_ Gerome nodded. "It's alright, Inigo. I didn't visit Cherche because I was afraid of seeing myself so young, from the outside--" _

_ Inigo quickly shook his head from side to side and butted his head into Gerome's chest. "No! Not the child!" _

_ His hands balled into fists at the knight's collar and stayed there, gripping his shirt tightly. He was completely at a loss. _

_ "Olivia... I saw myself in Olivia." _

_ Gerome didn't understand. _

_ He was sure if he ever would be able to, but he nodded either way and spent the night holding the crying man. _

* * *

 

“Inigo.”

He seemed to crumble with just that one word. At once, Inigo tightened himself, falling inwards emotionally. How he had managed to make it here without falling apart altogether was a miracle. The man was holding a lot back, just as he would when they were still children.

It was the same person after all.

From here, Gerome could see his fists, clenched tightly together. His stiff posture. His eyes were the only thing open about him now, never leaving his face.

“This isn’t… a joke right? Odin… didn’t set you up to this?” Inigo’s shaky voice breathed, trying to manage a smile as he sorted his thoughts out. Gerome’s brows furrowed together; that wasn’t the reaction he had been hoping for. If anything, he expected immediate tears, bright declarations of love and jumping for hugs.

It had been years since he last saw Inigo.

But it had also been years since Inigo last saw him.

_ Where have you been? What have you been up to? I want to know everything about you, even more now than before. Tell me all about your day, every day. Sit me down for weeks and tell me every detail I’ve missed. _

_ How many smiles have I missed out on? Have you been lonely? Did you have fun? Were you sad? A lot has happened, you know. _

Gerome breathed in deeply through his nose to maintain composure. “There’s a lot of things I want to ask you.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“What are you feeling?”

“Scared.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Inigo seemed surprised by them, as if he hadn’t meant to speak them. “I’m… really scared.”

“Why?”

Gerome took the first step forward cautiously, as one would approach a small animal. Inigo was no rabbit or game, however; if Gerome knew anything, it was that he was a fully grown man. One he had fought alongside for many years. One who continued fighting even now, although he hadn’t seen it.

Many times after battle, Gerome would have to hunt him down just to bandage the soldier before he barreled into another fight. The idiot never seemed to take notice of his own wounds, though would act just as if not more insufferable when Gerome was hurt.

Which tactic was he going into this with, if not his regular thick-skulled, brash self?

“Because, I’m about to cry.”

Gerome could believe it. With another step forward, Inigo took one back.

“It’s happened before, you know. I’ve walked through entire crowds and think I’ve seen you, but when I get close or turn around, you’re already gone.”

“It’s the same for me,” the wyvern rider admitted readily. “For all these years, I assumed you dead.” He hadn’t planned for this, and yet all at once, it seemed to flow out. “I  _ mourned _ you, I made a grave, I--”

Inigo shook his head violently, cutting him off. “Don’t  _ say _ that! Don’t, don’t… This isn’t how it’s supposed to go…”

Gerome let the silence take them over. Sensing the atmosphere, Minerva had lowered herself into her makeshift bed and left them alone. From here he could still hear the hustle and bustle inside the palace as the party continued. Yet here they were, standing on the edge of palace grounds, waiting for one to make a move before the other broke.

What was he supposed to do?

Did he go up to him, take him in his arms and kiss him and promise everything would be alright?

This wasn’t a romance novel, and Inigo was clearly upset at something--likely himself. Even so, this was their fated reunion, the night Gerome had been waiting all this time for. Spent nights dreaming about until he woke up, figuring they were more like nightmares with how unrealistic and far off they were. It was all a vision so perfect it could be nothing other than a ghost making to haunt him for the rest of his life. And yet… this was real. 

Inigo was standing in front of him. Inigo, his  _ Inigo _ was actually here. Unable to help it, he felt a rare smile come to his face.

“Inigo.”

The mercenary broke out of the same trance. Confused, Inigo looked around before settling on Gerome’s face and his eyes widened in turn.

Then, an even kinder expression graced his features.

“...aha,” he sniffled before laughing, wiping a few tears that had been threatening to fall. “What are we doing… Gerome, it’s your fault!"

He couldn’t help but chuckle as he finally began walking towards Inigo, and this time, the other didn’t back away. “As if, stupid.”

They met halfway.

“And still wearing a stupid mask… this one’s new,” Inigo hummed as he reached up to pull it off, fingers tracing the line of his jaw as they did so. Gerome watched Inigo’s chest rise dramatically with a concealed gasp.

“Camilla got it for me.”

Inigo’s fingertips tapped at the points on his face the princess had covered him in paint and powder. “And all of this?”

“Her as well.”

The dancer laughed loudly now, taking Gerome’s face fully in his hands, mask in the dirt now. “I can’t believe you actually let her-- _ you _ !”

“I wasn’t going to ruin the one chance I had.”

It shut him up, at the very least. As Inigo’s eyes lowered to his chest, away from his eyes, Gerome reached up to hold his hand firmer against his cheek. The banquet, masters, the royal family, countries, worlds, none of it mattered. Even if he was sent back home right now or died on the spot, it would be enough.

Except, that was entirely a lie in an effort to be noble.

Months ago, he would have given anything to just see Inigo one last time, to know he was alive. A week ago, just speaking once would have been all he needed. But now that he was finally able to touch him and had him right here--there was no way he would ever be able to recover.

“I’ll never be able to do it again,” Gerome said aloud, deciding the time was precious enough to voice his thoughts which were usually too embarrassing. Inigo turned his head curiously, relishing in the experience. “Now that we’ve been separated for so long, and I know what it’s like… I’ll never do it again.”

“That was sappy, Gerome. Where’s your character?”

“I’ll never let  _ you _ do it again, you bumbling oaf.”

Another bright laugh. “That’s it, that’s my Gerome!” Inigo’s giggling, lovely as bells, quieted down to a chuckle until suddenly, he was silent. He lowered his head and slowly leaned forward until his forehead met the side of Gerome’s head.

A shaky hiccup broke the silence.

“That’s… Gerome. Gerome, Gerome…” The hand on his face slid down to his shoulder, holding him tightly.

Not like he would ever move now. Gerome was completely put together, knowing one of them needed to be, and he had prepared for at least this. Inigo would never not be an absolute crybaby, no matter what world they were in. Gently, he brought his arms to wrap around his back and shoulders.

Pressing Inigo’s body closer to his, Gerome finally allowed himself the privilege of inhaling his scent, nose pressed to the side of his head.

The ribbon Inigo had sent with Severa hadn’t been enough. Even the clothes and belongings he had held onto for years, memories attached, couldn’t compare.

Inigo’s body gradually began to shake in his hold. “I didn’t want this… to happen,” he said, voice muffled by Gerome’s shoulder. “But I kept--I kept thinking of what would happen if… you decided not to come. You shouldn’t have… why did you? It’s so reckless… so stupid…!”

“Stupid’s right,” Gerome nodded, “but you’ve proven it useful before.”

Even while crying, Inigo laughed. “I imagined the worst, too. You could’ve been dead, and if you weren’t, maybe you fell in love with someone else, or--or  _ hated _ me… but of all the possibilities, you actually fucking came… you--you absolute lunatic!”

“You’re the one who followed a stranger on a whim to save his world. At least my source material was more reliable.”

Another laugh had Gerome’s chest in an absolute mess. A week ago, he was sure he would’ve been mad. He would have yelled at Inigo, cursed at him for all he had been put through. But in the end, he had been going through a lot as well, hadn’t he? Not only did his fears sound similar, but an entire war as well. He had a whole new cast and battles to worry about along with Gerome.

Thinking about it like that, Gerome ran the hand on Inigo’s shoulder up to the top of his head and slowly began to pet his hair. He had said enough already; at some point, actions became more important than words. He only paused to remove the gloves he had put on earlier, throwing them to the side with his mask before continuing to comfort the man in his hold.

He could practically feel the moment Inigo’s resolve crumbled.

“I meant every word… every single word that I wrote to you--I had to rewrite it a bunch of times, you know. It… it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done--”

“It’s fine,” Gerome cut him off, the hand at his back now rubbing small circles into his hip as well. He knew what Inigo was trying to get to; they could talk about the letter later.

“I still… after years, you know? Even though we’ve been apart… I said to myself at the beginning, ‘if I forget about him, if I start to not care it--it shows it wasn’t worthwhile anyways’.”

“It was never a question for me.”

“...yeah, I guess I lied just now.”

“It isn’t the first time.”

Inigo’s laughter shook both of them, and Gerome was smiling again when the dancer finally pulled back enough to look him in the face. They were never far apart in height, but he’d always had just almost an inch above him. Now that slip in height felt to make all the difference, looking at him this close.

His eyes were red from crying, as were his cheeks. A bit of wetness remained at his eyes and smeared along his cheekbones which Gerome was quick to wipe away with his sleeve. Most important, however, was the smile of complete and utter, genuine  _ joy _ on his face like he had never seen before. There wasn’t even a comparison. If it weren’t for the rarity and pure beauty of his expression, Gerome would have easily leaned forward to capture his lips as he had been waiting to do for what felt like eons.

Not that it mattered--Inigo did the job for him.

And thankfully, he could feel that same smile of euphoric bliss against his own lips.

What was meant to be a kiss that’s romantic passion would rival all of history turned into a mess, switching between Inigo being unable to open his mouth without laughing and a few out of place sobs which Gerome quickly swallowed from him.

Their teeth clashed. Gerome accidentally bit his own tongue a couple times. Inigo bit Gerome’s too. Their hands couldn’t find one place to stay, scrambling at shoulders, hair, hips, and anything they could get ahold of.

All of a sudden, years of waiting came crashing down in the form of a need to consume as much of the other as quickly as possible, as if to make up for lost time. They finally settled with Inigo’s hands tight at Gerome’s face, practically clawing off the layers of paint Camilla had so finely crafted. In turn, the other’s arms wrapped like a snake around his upper and lower back so there might be no chance of separated ever again.

This was what it was, forever now.

* * *

 

The walk back to Gerome’s room as spent explaining how he had gotten here, from Severa’s arrival (“Yes, they’re very happy now that they’re back together”) to why he took so long to make a decision, meeting Camilla, and his training up until now. Inigo listened with intent, eyes never leaving his face even as they navigated the winding halls back to Gerome’s quarters.

Inigo held the white cloth Gerome had given back to him earlier, rubbing the fabric between his fingers fondly as he studied every new crease that told its use and care Gerome had taken. They only bothered lighting a candle on either side of the bed they sat on, not wasting any time returning to each other’s sides as they took their place at the headboard of the bed and sat together. Inigo’s head almost immediately hit Gerome’s shoulder as they sat and he made himself comfortable.

When he had first arrived, Gerome didn’t think much of the room he was given. It was nicer than anything he had before, but only because he was used to traveling from inn to camp and back. This wasn’t particularly luxurious, per se, but better than any home he’d had before. The man curled up at his side certainly helped as well.

“I watched at the banquet,” he began, not knowing what else to say, “your dancing.”

“Oh…” Gerome definitely caught the slight break in Inigo’s voice, as if the other hadn’t thought of it until now. Even though he knew it wasn’t a big deal, Gerome still reached for his hand to give reassurance; Inigo never enjoyed anyone watching him before. “I guess so, huh… what did you think?”

“It’s different.”

Inigo slapped his thigh.

“That was a compliment!”

“So I was bad before?”

Gerome stopped himself from speaking, mouth left hanging open as he tried to think of anything that could save him from Inigo’s scrutinizing glare.

It only took a few seconds for the dancer to break out into laughter and smile again, though. “I’m fucking with you, god! Just tell me about how good I was tonight, or something.” Even as he acted haughty, Gerome caught the pink over his cheeks and the wariness in his eye. It made him smile, enough to bring up a hand and card his fingers through Inigo’s hair.

“You were… breathtaking. Surprisingly so,” Gerome admitted, each word quiet and carefully chosen. It was a war between being open, telling Inigo every cliche but meaningful feeling he’d ever had for him, and being himself, afraid of shame. The last time he had spoken with Inigo, opened up and was honest, the man disappeared the next day, never to be seen again.

Until now.

He had to keep reminding himself that things were different now. 

“I am used to watching you alone in relative secrecy--seeing you dance tonight, unrestrained and open was refreshing.” A smile found itself back to his face. “Like this is how you were always meant to be.”

Inigo let out a loud groan, covering his face and ducking his head into Gerome’s lap to hide. “Ah, as I thought, it’s too much hearing from you! I can barely accept praise from my lord, I shouldn’t have asked!”

Gerome couldn’t help but laugh as his hands resettled on top of Inigo’s head and played with his hair. “How could one who performs for the king himself and his entire court possibly be bashful?”

“It’s quite possible, actually!”

The hands covering Inigo’s face slowly inched down until they revealed the coy smile on his pink face. He turned so he could nestle his face into Gerome’s abdomen, quite enjoying the preening as he curled his body around the other’s.

“I’d like to dance for you, sometime,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Tonight… was for Xander and the kingdom of Nohr. I would like to… perform for you, Gerome.”

The offer came as a surprise to him; Inigo had never been one to dance for anyone in particular, much less dedicate a performance to one person. It was one of the many small ways he was discovering Inigo had changed--developed, more like. He was still the same person, just grown. 

He nodded before remembering his lover couldn’t see him. “I’d enjoy that.”

His mind wandered back to the banquet hours ago, although the event felt as if it had been years back. The entire palace was miles away now, leaving the two absorbed in each other in some delicate purgatory that could break at any moment if Gerome were to stop petting his hair.

The scene of Inigo dressed in dark silks was laid over his memories of Ylisse, the two fitting together but different at the edges. Where the Inigo in his bedclothes would cower from extending his arm fully, Inigo in dark dress flourished his fingertips and spun them round. Inigo in the clothes he sweat in all day held his face firm as if he were prepared to deny his actions should anyone stumble upon him; Inigo wrapped in cloth tailored just for his figure pronounced his love of the sport and all those watching loudly with a smile on his face.

They were both heart wrenchingly beautiful.

Gerome closed his eyes and let his back hit the firm wood of the headboard behind him, fingers never stopping where they sifted through Inigo’s hair. 

A small voice didn’t interrupt his thoughts this time as much as they read Gerome’s mind and spoke it.

“I’m so happy right now.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Me too.”

“We can be together, Gerome…” Inigo said, voice falling to a whisper. From this angle he could no longer see the man’s face, but felt Inigo’s hand tighten around his thigh. “Everything that held us back is gone--all the people, and hate, and duties, and wars. It can just be this, forever.”

Gerome’s mind returned to late nights in dirty inns, ducked under thin sheets and tracing the line of Inigo’s smile with his own. At the time, he would have given anything for another hour of honesty and openness together before they were thrown back out into the world.

Now, it was this; forever.

Inigo sat up suddenly, surprising Gerome into opening his eyes once more. Inigo’s eyes weren’t on his but looking around the room, startled. “Inigo?”

“I--no, don’t look like that, everything’s fine!” he quickly reassured, turning to straddle Gerome and place his hands firmly on his shoulders. “I just--remembered something I had to do since we got back today. You’re distracting me from all of my duties already, you bad boy.”

If he had any concerns for Inigo’s behavior before, they were washed away by the playful wink he gave. Gerome scoffed a small laugh and pushed him away by his shoulders to earn a laugh. “Then go, sir knight. I want to see you again before I sleep, however.”

The way Inigo tried to hide the bright smile from those words alone was irresistible in and of itself. He jumped off of the bed before he changed his mind and began fastening the vests he had taken off to relax earlier. “Since when did you get so forward… I’ll come back here when I’m done!” Inigo was practically jumping up and down with excitement likely at the prospect of being able to up and see Gerome whenever. He was fumbling with the buttons of his vest clumsily before he simply threw it at the bed with a, “something to remember me by!” over his shoulder, bounding out of the room.

Surprisingly, this time Inigo didn’t take Gerome’s heart as he left. He felt it beating in his chest, more full than it had been in years and close to bursting from his chest. He leaned back against the headboard of the bed and allowed happiness to eat him from the inside out.

Inigo’s nickname was “optimism.” Home, Gerome had at most looked forward to playing cards with Kjelle or one of their other friends visiting their encampment. He never dared return to the parents in that world and rarely sought out new people to acquaint himself with. He woke up. He ate. Took on jobs. Fought. Trained. He came home and placed his own husk into bed for the repeat.

After years of a bitter and dry life, he was nearly overwhelmed by all that was suddenly given to him.

Out of nowhere, Gerome was being given a career and a reason to fight. While not yet, he was sure the few he had met in the palace could become friends in the future. His Inigo, the most fulfilling love of his life was with him arm in arm.

In Ylisse, there had been two “Gerome”s.

He left the name behind, knowing the child there would become different than himself, and was finally allowed to be his own.

The door was opening back up, jarring Gerome from his thoughts as Inigo slipped back in with a smile that only grew as he approached the bed. “You haven’t moved an inch, slug.”

“I’m conserving energy.”

Inigo’s eyebrows went up as he crawled up the covers, deciding instead to straddle the other’s lap and almost purred at the hands holding his hips. “Pray tell, what could you possibly need energy for at night?”

He didn’t bother playing at whatever game Inigo was getting at. Instead, Gerome tilted his head to kiss Inigo’s chin and relished in the giggle such an action produced before taking his mouth.

There wasn’t any need to bother with asking where he had been, if he was tired, or anything. Inigo answered everything he had been thinking with the eager movement of his lips and the swiftness with which he removed his shirt when they finally separated. They divested themselves of their clothing hastily before reconvening in the middle with wandering hands and blown pupils.

Inigo’s new uniform for his performance had been a sight to behold. He was stunning in swathes of dark purples and gold. But this Inigo, naked and splotched red from heat, was all his. Gerome had to swallow thickly at the sight he had scolded himself for nearly forgetting. Inigo didn’t speak or even tease him as Gerome’s hands came up to gently brush the width of his shoulders, down to the planes of his stomach and expanse of his chest. Inigo was doing the same to him.

Neither spoke, focusing their entirety on each other’s bodies and committing everything to memory. If Inigo said anything, it would be too much information to take in at once. Instead he kept his gaze on the mole below his hipbone he had missed so dearly, the light dusting of hair above his pelvis he hadn’t shaved, and the flesh of his thighs trembling with a simple touch.

“Do you want to do this tonight?” Gerome whispered, the backs of his knuckles ghosting over the junction between his thigh and hip. “I would not be averse to simply holding each other and talking.”

“I haven’t--” Inigo took a shaky breath. “It’s been a long time, Gerome… I’d like to not wait a moment more, actually.”

He couldn’t help but smile. For some reason, he felt relieved to know Inigo was just as pent up as he had been. Perhaps in the back of his mind, Gerome was still afraid of the thought of Inigo with another in the time they were apart. Gerome had never taken another lover, the last time he touched Inigo being the last he was touched as well. Not only was he yearning to hold Inigo again, but it had been forever since he had been intimate with anyone else at all.

Images of Inigo pinned beneath a stranger that once haunted his dreams disappeared and he was left with the sincere man sitting atop him. Gerome gripped his hips more firmly and met in the middle for a reassuring kiss.

“We’ve both done enough waiting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry they'll fuck next chapter i know that's half of what everyone cares about anyways


End file.
